The Paladin Provision
by Cranston
Summary: Many crossovers ahead. Rated for future languageviolence. The response of a sane world to insane circumstances...
1. Decision Point

I own none of the recognized characters within this story. I merely borrow them for fun.

Various timelines have been adjusted. At the time of the beginning of the fic, it is;

3 months prior to 'Chosen' - BtVS

1 Week prior 'Fragile Balance' - SG: SG1

Post 'The Shadow' - The Shadow film (1994 - Alec Baldwin)

Post the fall of the Centre (I'm assuming it happens)- The Pretender

* * *

Unknown Date / Unknown Location / Unknown group

"Things are heating up."

"Indeed, traditional forces are ill-equipped to counter this."

"My own units, while effective, are unsuitable for such assignments."

"There is an option."

"What?"

"A completely black op. We pick the initial members, maybe fully brief the first four or five, give them a one off payment, a huge one, which they'll have to invest/bank for their logistical support. Maybe a password or phrase that's a 'Get-out-of-Jail-Free' for those members in the know, and the string to get out any of their team-mates."

"Why the strings?"

"They'd be doing this without oversight, occasional contact through a variety of agencies for general records. Regular meetings would be as bad as regular funding, it would leave a trail. So, we need people we trust. Not just reliable, incorruptible. Or as near as we can get. People willing to go out there for minimal benefit to themselves and no recognition. Paladins, if you will."

"Potentially risky."

"We risk the world if we do nothing."

"I have been reviewing the Watcher's Council, their concentration on one, high powered girl who they treat as cannon-fodder is, worrisome."

"I suggest we bend our efforts to finding these 'Paladin's'' and bring our lists to the next meeting."

"Agreed."

"Meeting adjourned."

* * *

One year later / Unknown Location / Unknown Group

"Do we all have our lists?"

"This is for the core group, correct? The ones who will know their sponsors?"

"Indeed, a small core, each with potentially useful contacts."

"I suggest we each propose one member…"

"Two for myself, I am more acquainted with the mystical due to my study of the Watchers Council."

"Very well, one each for myself and Spence, two for Basil. Head of the group to be decided after members decided upon."

"While I'd like Colonel Phoenix on the team, he is currently upset with us and focused on his own mission. However, a file recently crossed my desk concerning a possible candidate. Somehow, an near-exact duplicate Colonel Jonathan O'Neill USAF is running around. I nominate him."

"Near-exact?"

"Body of a 17-year-old, mind of a forty year old combat / special forces veteran."

"Impressive. I second."

"I agree."

"Ok, I have a lead on one 'Jarod', no fixed last name, has been jumping around the country helping others, displaying the skills of, well, whatever's needed at the time. Seems the group chasing him, 'The Centre', nasty group, collapsed recently, so he's slowed down and eased up on the counter-surveillance."

"Hmm, sure it's the same guy?"

"Photo-ID on thirty of the miracle workers, matches the description on over a hundred others. If we lie to him, he'll find out and, break us if we were working for ourselves."

"Seems you know more than you've said. He sounds ok to me."

"I concur."

"Now, records indicate that after the Second World War, a character named 'The Shadow' battled crime in New York City. We have recently cracked his identity due to a combination of his extended longevity and unusual observations made of him. He seems to be able to appear invisible to the eye, or an eye watching a live video of the area. He does however show up on recordings when he didn't live, it appears to be a form of telepathy. He can also subjugate another's will for a short time. He currently uses the moniker James Herbert Chase, however his original name is Lamont Cranston."

"Seems to fit the bill."

"Useful abilities to have. I agree."

"The second of my suggestions is actually another American citizen. I pause for the stunned silence."

A stunned silence permeates the room.

"He is involved with the New Watcher's Council. During the reduction in signals security following the destruction of the old council, we learnt quite a lot about the 'Scooby Gang' who patrolled the Hellmouth for seven years. We even got a complete dossier on the four core 'Scoobies' courtesy of an e-mail attachment. One of which requires later discussion. However, I nominate Alexander LaVelle Harris for membership."

"What does he bring to the group?"

"Fought literal demons for seven years, despite being 'the normal one' and called 'one of the girls' by the Slayer, seems unable not to help anyone who needs it, and has an uncanny ability to see to the heart of things, though that's a recent development. He still fights despite the loss of an eye…"

"How! Where were the others?"

"He knocked a potential out of the grasp of a possessed preacher, who had just taken out both then-current Slayers and the Vampire Spike, who gouged it out with his thumb. Before tossing him across the room. He was out of hospital within a week and was present at their final battle as a group. The others don't seem to appreciate this, with the possible exception of Rupert Giles, and he's been sent to Africa to recruit new Slayers. As another point, He is the only one who hasn't taken a break from the fight ever. His post graduation summer road trip appears to have been an effort to contact other fighters to gain aid. While he came into contact with an individual known only as 'Blade' as well as the 'Charmed Ones' their respective problems all got worse at the same time, making mutual support impossible. I would Strongly recommend making Mr Harris the head of this new outfit."

"I agree on the membership, I'll think on the leadership."

"I have concerns about this. Seven years of constant combat? He may be close to burning out."

"His Psyche profile suggests it is almost impossible for him to do so with even one person around who he is a) friends with, and b) supportive. He doesn't need babying, but he does need in-group recognition. He would, I imagine, get on well with the infamous Jack O'Neill. What name is the replica using by the way?"

"Jonathan 'Jack' Lazarus."

"Dear lord, spare me."

"A trustworthy analysis?"

"Indeed, the same one who is the sole voice keeping Bond in the Active section."

"Ok, I say in, as both leader and member of… What are we calling this?"

"We are gathering warriors for the protection of the world, perhaps the World Defence Group?"

"The White Knight Association."

"Gentlemen, these are not politicians to be wowed by impressive names, nor new agents who need re-assurance we're the good guys. Their mission statement is to provide the assistance of their, ah, paladins to whosever needs saving. Paladin Provision Command I think. PPC nicely ambiguous as well…"

"Very well. Alexander Harris, Jack Lazarus, Lamont Cranston and Jarod, seems a good initial line-up."

"Indeed."

"Well gentlemen, lets be about it."

"The Paladin Provision Command is born..."

* * *

Please, Please, Please review. you know you want to... 


	2. Out of Africa

I own none of the recognizable characters portrayed within.

I am deeply grateful. Thank you all for your reviews, they have been most useful and have done incredible things for my ego.

It was asked why this had to be a 'completely black' group. This will be explained in this chapter.

Unknown Date / Unknown Location / Unknown group - (Following prior chapter. The same meeting)

"I would council caution. While we need to gather these people together, we must also consider the group as a whole."

"What do you mean?"

"We have three excellent fighters and a certified genius as our first four. They lack anyone with an in-depth knowledge of the arcane or the research materials to gain it. If Harris leaves the NWC to join this group, he would likely lose access to their archives."

"Good points. It occurs that someone with their own, independent contacts should be approached."

"I have such an individual in mind…"

"Aha, Basil, you sneaky brit. You're trying to sneak a third nomination in aren't you? Well, tell us then."

"Lady Lara Croft"

"Her!"

"Her!"

Both the others sound incredulous.

"Her experience, ah, 'Tomb Raiding', along with her early life, has given her a lot of contacts around the world. She is knowledgeable about, unusual, happenings and is herself so wealthy that gaining more is meaningless."

"Well…"

"I suppose. It's just, the uproar she can cause on her own. The thought of her being connected to us…"

"I thought that is why we were making this a black operation. By their nature, these peoples missions are unlikely to remain covert for long. The rise in para-normal events will soon penetrate the publics awareness. Once they become public, any links to us, and then _from_ us, will be traced. We cannot afford to have our other assets exposed, so, we 'cut-the-cord' as it were as soon as possible and deny any part in their creation, though offer our support gladly to 'this heroic group of people who risk life and limb for the world.' when the time comes."

"I'm glad you're on our side."

"Me too."

"Dear boys, we are all on our own sides. We just happily seem to share the same ends. So, Lady Croft is on the team?"

"Ok, you sold me on it."

"Can I suggest another as well as Lady Croft?"

"Which would bring us to six core members. Fire away, but lets keep it at that."

"Dr Henry Jones Jr. has been kicking around since forever. He opposed the Nazis during the war, and thwarted two attempts by Hitler to gain a supernatural edge. He also appears to have stopped aging around the time of the second incident. Supposedly, it surrounded the Holy Grail of the Christian faith. He is an expert on all manner of arcane objects. If all else fails, he asks his dad, Dr Henry Jones Sr., who co-incidentally, was involved in the second incident and has also appeared to have stopped aging."

"Sounds promising, but I think we bring the five in, and give the this Dr Jones' number, along with any others we can scrounge up that we can't get for ourselves, but who may prove amenable to them."

"I approve, it reduces chances of interception."

"Very well."

"I suppose."

"Meeting adjourned."

12/3/04 / Cairo - Egypt

Xander Harris was pissed. Not drunk, angry. He'd just zeroed in on the latest slayer to be called in his area (Half of Continental Africa) following a week of searching, after a blistering telephone call with Buffy in which she'd called him a slacker, a dolt and a waste of space. It didn't seem to occur to her that Africa was BIG, and it took time to travel from place to place. All she cared about was that he hadn't done it already so she could rest assured that all was well, allowing her to stay 'on sabbatical' a while longer. So, discovering the new slayer on a slave block in the demon-run basement did nothing for Xander's already frayed temper.

"I am going to count to five. If she is not unchained, unharmed and released by the time I reach five, I release the Aklarian Burrower Beetles I have in my sack. If she is, then you get to die quickly."

The demons rushed to obey, anyone with Aklarian Burrower Beetles commanded obedience. Xander made his way to the Slayer, an Oriental looking woman with brown eyes and dark hair who was about his own height.

"Hey there. What's your name? I'm Xander Harris."

"C, C, Cassandra Newman."

"Ok Cassandra, you come with me, and we'll get you safe."

"O, Ok."

As Xander led Cassandra to the only entrance to the slavers den, the demons drew further back. 'Xander Harris' was a name feared in demonic circles. Oh, Summers, Rosenberg and Giles were scarier, but this guy stared down _Angelus_, he was freaky.

As Xander and Cassandra exited the door, he reached into his bag, pulling out three silver cylinders.

"Fire in the hole." he called softly, as he threw them through the door and pulled it shut. "We should run now." And so they did, not stopping till they were four streets away. Needless to say, the explosion was big.

"So, Cassandra, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Xander joked.

"Th, Those, things, g, grabbed me. Th, they kept calling me s, slayer and told me they were gonna s, sell me to the highest bidder. Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou…" Maria dissolved into tears as she finished her tale, clutching at Xander

"Shh, shh. It'll be ok. They can't get you now. They'll never hurt anyone ever again."

"H, How did you know where to find m, me?"

"I was wandering round downtown Cairo when my sixth sense, aka gorgeous woman detector, went off. So I followed it and found you." Xander said with a lopsided smile.

"R, Really?"

"No." Xander half turned away. "Have you been having nightmares recently?"

"Y, yes. A black girl killed by a bleached blonde monster. A girl called India being lectured by a man in tweed, 'she alone has the strength to fight the monsters, vampires, demons and the forces of Darkness'. A blonde girl killed by a monster in a cave. The same blonde girl meeting a brunette girl called Faith. A cave filled with creatures, the blond and Faith leading girls into it and fighting and a red haired woman doing something…"

"Oh good. You, Cassandra, are a slayer. A mystical champion empowered to fight vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. You are, however, not alone. There are a few hundred like you around the world, guided by Watchers, aided by friends and backed up by witches. You were only Called recently, and I'm afraid it took me, too long, to find you. If you wish, we can train you to fight, set you up somewhere you'd be needed and pay a reasonable wage. You'd have to go to school and maintain decent grades. That's it, the whole recruitment speech in one. I can only apologise for not getting to you before they did."

Maria gazed at the one-eyed man who'd rescued her, listening not only to the words, but the tone he delivered them in.

"How far away were you when I was, um, 'Called'?"

I was in a small village near the source of the Nile river. The shaman was interested in learning more about the history of the Slayer. I was escorting a woman of the tribe who'd been called back to them, as she'd completed basic training. We've had to set up different training plans for different groups. You'd probably get Intermediate training, that takes a minimum of a year, followed by apprenticeship at one of the Hellmouths under an established Slayer. Rona probably."

"And if I say no?"

"There is a serum, it would strip you of you slayer-i-ness and mystical aura, but while it seems an attractive option, there is a downside."

"Which is?"

"You've now been introduced to the mystical side of the world, and the demons who took you may have some way of tracking you without using your slayer presence. If they do, they might hunt you down in revenge. Also, can you turn your back on those in need?"

"What can a Slayer do?"

"She's faster, has better reflexes, is way stronger and heals more quickly than a normal person."

"What do you have?"

"Me? Nothing. I stumbled into this world at 16 and couldn't turn away. To tell the truth, my friends aren't too keen on me keeping on fighting."

"Friends?"

"The blonde girl you saw. Her names Buffy, oldest living Slayer, well technically. She's died a couple of times. The red-head was Willow, my bestest bud. Faith's a pal too."

"What happened to your eye?"

"A crazy guy working for the other side gouged it out with his thumb. I wont lie to you, this life is violent and often short. But I think it's worth it."

"Where were your friends when he did that!"

"Across the room, where he'd thrown them. Now, do you have any family that you'd like to contact?"

"N, no. I ran away when they started to talk about institutionalisation because of the dreams."

"Ok. We won't force you to contact them, but I'd advise it. Having a family that loves you can be a great support in times of trouble."

"How long do I have to decide?"

"Well, if having met me, you decide that you want nothing to do with us, you can walk away now, no questions asked, though I advise against it. You could go to Council HQ, and have the travel time to decide if you want to stay a slayer or not."

"Would you go with me?"

"I'm afraid not. You're looking at the regional director of the International Council of Slayers and Watchers, African Continent (North). I'm needed here, what if another girl needs me? Besides, I'm the contact for three-quarters of the tribes we have relations with. I can't just gallivant off to London."

"C, can I stay with you?"

"You need proper training, I just use the dual tactics of dirty fighting and over-kill. There's no way I can give you the techniques you can use best."

"But, I want to stay here. You saved me from a roomful of demons who were scared of you. Please. You said it was my choice. I choose to stay with you. Plus, I'm already a brown belt in aikido and an orange in karate."

"But… Ok. Who am I to deny another's choice. I'll relay all this to the G-Man and the rest. Come on, we better get to a hotel."

The two warriors against the dark, a Champion so new she squeaked and a warrior aged inside by his experiences, but young in countenance, made their way to a Hotel. Once there, Xander reported the days events to Council HQ, along with Cassandra's expressed desire to stay with him, and his willingness to act as a Field Watcher until someone more qualified was assigned.

13/03/04 / ICSW HQ - England

"Well, Xander seems to be his usual charming self, though why he persists in addressing me as 'G-Man' even when he can't see the result is a mystery. Hmm, expenses claim for three hi-explosive grenades, used for… good lord, demolishing a demon slave trading business. He'll want thermo-baric munitions next!" Rupert Giles, Head of the new ICSW, was reading Xander's report of the night before. "Hmm, the new Slayer wants to stay with him, hardly a surprise…"

As Giles turned to the next page of the report, his door burst in and a blonde whirlwind entered the room, waving a copy of Xander's report.

"Giles, Xander's obviously possessed again, he thinks _he_ can train a slayer. I mean, he's useful for pick-ups, but training, no way. So, I'm taking the jet to get the new slayer and Xander so he can be de-possessed or something."

"Buffy…" Giles started

"I know, it's good of me to cut my sabbatical short. Bye Giles." she chirped, as she left the room.

"Oh dear. I'd best alert the cooks to stock up more chocolate ice-cream. I doubt Xander will let Buffy waltz in and give orders." He presses a button on his intercom. "Molly, would you get some extra-strength paracetamol in, I'm afraid we're in for round twenty-eight of the Summers-Harris grudge-match. Some scotch as well please."

"Yes sir Mr Giles."

"Thank you." he released the button. "I do hope they both survive. I do believe they're close to turning the corner in their disagreements. Wait a minute! 'The Jet'! we only have one, and that's for emergencies only! Blast."

19/03/04 / Village somewhere in Central Africa / Xander and Maria

"So you do this often?"

"What?"

"The fighting evil shamans who've enslaved their villages."

"It's pretty common Cass, so yeah."

"And the distribution of vaccines and medicinal drugs?"

"Well, they need it, and I've a load of money anyway that I won't miss, so why not?"

"You're a good man, Alexander Harris."

"Please, I'm begging you, call me Xand- GET DOWN!"

As he dove at Cassandra, knocking her out of the way of the incoming fireball and behind a sandy hillock, another Jeep pulled up. Unfortunately, the fireball caught Xander's arm, burning him. Out of the Jeep sprang Buffy.

"Buffy, get down! Fireball happy Shaman over there!"

Cassandra whispered to Xander "_She _is the bogeyman's worst nightmare!"

"Yep. Now get over there and take out the Shaman, I'll cover you."

With that, Xander pulls out an old six-shooter, leans around the hillock and opens fire. Maria sprints around the other way, but runs into Buffy coming the other way.

"Is he using a _gun_?" Buffy growls.

"Uh-huh" Replies Cassandra distractedly "Excuse me."

With that, she's off. Using Slayer speed to approach the wayward Shaman, she's halfway there before Buffy tackles her.

"Stay Down. I'll handle this."

As Buffy gets up, Xander's gun falls silent. Buffy runs straight towards the Shaman, skilfully dodging the fireballs he hurls at her, instead of at the hillock. She reaches him in under ten seconds and knocks him unconscious with a single blow. Xander gets up from his cover.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? Cass, get the burn kit and meet me in the village." he shouts.

As Buffy turns to approach his position, he turns and sprints towards the village. Some of the fireballs Buffy had dodged had hit the villagers. Three were burned, while another fireball had hit…the nursery hut! With a turn of speed which would have greatly improved his grade for PE in High School, Xander entered the now-blazing hut, and came out with four children. Handing them off to members of the tribe, he turned and went back in! This time exiting with three more babies, coughing heavily. The hut was now empty.

"Cass! Start applying the burn patches to the injured villagers!" He called. As he turned to the hut, more villagers ran up.

"Thank you, you saved the village from the Shaman." said one in broken English.

"Thanks, shmanks. Let's put this fire out."

Having reached him, Buffy grabbed his arm.

"ARGGHH" he screamed and fell to the ground. Buffy had grabbed his _burnt _arm. "Get OFF" he growled at her.

"Xander, I'm sorry. We've got to get you to the hospital. You know you don't heal as fast as me…"

"Later, first we've got to help these people."

"But…"

"Cass, how are the burn patients?"

"Nothing too serious, looks like only one in four of the fireballs were hot enough to do more than scorch."

"Good. Now, as Miss Summers here has so, kindly, reminded me of my arm, could you bandage it up please. Buffy, go help with the fire."

"But…"

"NOW."

"Ok Xander."

"Can do Boss-Man."

"Now I fell like Giles. Soon the urge to wear tweed will become overwhelming…"

19/03/04 / Colorado Springs High School

"I hate High School." muttered Colonel Jack O'N… sorry, Jack Lazarus, as he left the school building.

"I hear ya buddy" agreed a random student.

In the months since he'd left the SGC behind for High School, Jack had gone from very happy (classes were easy and the girls cute) to rather depressed (All his old friends were gone, he was stuck as a teenager and he _couldn't buy beer_!). He'd also developed a reputation. He was quiet, polite to teachers and students alike, had a tendency to befriend geeks and had got into three fights, twice to defend a geek, once to help a girl who's boyfriend didn't understand 'No'. As such, he'd been expelled, apparently three fights in three months and breaking the arm of the schools star quarterback merited expulsion, with nothing to fill his days with. 'Halo' and hockey could only be watched so much. The Simpson's however, remained an enjoyable recourse. There was no such thing as 'too much Simpsons', thankfully. His new friends would come by after school, but while he liked them, and had the advantage of forty odd years extra experience and had dealt with Samantha 'Her brain is the equal of any twenty normal peoples' Carter, he just didn't have the enthusiasm for math and science they did. English was cool though, and Latin (an elective) was easy due to the whole 'time-loop' thing, that'd been _fun_. Though Space-monkey must _never_ discover that he voluntarily took a language course…

"Aw, damn." He muttered. Daniel wouldn't find out, because he was Jack _Lazarus_ not O'Neill, O'Neill with the career, the friends, the lake… "Aw, damn."

The phone rang, and he answered it with the now instinctive "Jack Lazarus here. Speak."

"Mr Lazarus, we are aware of your unique situation, and have a job offer for you. If you're interested in a low-paid high-risk vocation in which you'll save the world, a lot, meet me outside the Colorado FBI office on the 23rd of this month."

"Who is this? What do you know?"

"My name is Hal Brognola. I'm head of the Justice department. I know everything, Colonel. By the way, Mack say's 'twenty-twenty-alpha'." With that, the caller rang off.

"Crap."

19/03/04 / Village somewhere in Central Africa / Evening

They'd put out the fire, the village was safe from supernatural threats and the villagers had invited them to a ceremonial banquet. Buffy was being, difficult.

"But I don't want to eat grubs!"

"Buffy, if you offend them, they stake you to the ground, cover you in berry juice and wait for the ants to eat you alive."

"But I saved them. And I could take them all one hand behind my back."

"Buffy, we're here to make friends, not piss off entire tribes! And me and Cass saved them, you got in the way."

"_WHAT!_" screeched Buffy "I saved your asses! You were playing around with a gun, and don't think Willow won't hear about that mister, and the new Slayer was running towards that Shaman! If I hadn't stopped her, she'd have been fried!"

Xander's eye narrowed. Cassandra's mouth dropped open. The tribes-people looked on in confusion, the white-man had been courteous, observed their ways as best he could and devised a plan to free them from the evil Shaman. The girl who'd arrived with him had helped the injured after the blond girl interfered, but the new girl was shouting at them! Why?

"Buff, I do not and never have 'played' with guns. I was laying down covering fire for Cass to circle round without attracting the Shaman's attention. She was circling round so that when _she_ distracted him, no fireballs could over-shoot and hit the village! Willow already knows about the guns, she's the one that put the magical SEP field on them so I can carry them through customs. And her _Name _is _Cassandra_. Not 'Slayer', though the fact she is one means she could have done what you did just as well as you did. So next time, butt out." By the end, Xander's voice had gone ice-cold, furious that Buffy would address anyone as 'Slayer', a label she'd fought to shift as hard as she could.

"Xander, you're obviously possessed or something. You seem to think you can train a slayer when you're just Xander, nothing special. You've done a good job finding them, but you send them to us for training. I'm here to take, uh, Cassandra, right, back to England. Besides, we're replenishing the Watcher ranks faster than expected, so pretty soon you're gonna be replaced and come to London where I can keep an eye on you."

"No."

"What!"

"I am not possessed. Cassandra is here because she wants to be, so you will not force her. If the Council chooses to replace me as Regional Head, that's up to them, but I'm not leaving Africa anytime soon. There's too much to be done."

"Xander, you need to come home. You've obviously been on your own too long. When we get to London I'll have the Coven check you over. Cassandra needs proper training, not some haphazard brawling you picked up over the years. Besides, what do you do here that the next Watcher can't?"

"Not can't, won't. The Council is seriously under-funded these days. I've been delivering medicines I bought myself with my own funds. What with the insurance payments on my eye, insurance on the apartment and the federal disaster money, I'm pretty wealthy. So I can help these people. Over the last six months, most of the African governments have decided to give me free access. They watch me, sure. They don't want me spying or anything. But these watchers who watch the Watcher…" he grinned "…see what I, we now, I suppose, fight. They also see what I've distributed. You carry on saving the world Buff, I'll help the people who live in it. By the way, Home is either a crater in southern California, or here. Not London."

"You're wealthy? You should've helped us after Sunnydale. We were holed up in poky little rooms with no clothes! You could have taken us shopping! And if you have money, you should give it to Giles to help the Council."

"Why should I have?"

"What? You're Xander. Helping us is what you do. Besides, you obviously didn't know what to do with all that money, so you should give it to those who do, like Willow, Giles or me."

"I've fought beside you, behind you and instead of you since sophomore year. That should be help enough. As to knowing how to deal with money, I've been better off than you or Will since High School. Think a little, it should help. If it doesn't, take a long hard look at how you paid you're mortgage after Joyce died. I helped enough. Besides, at the time I was just ever so slightly upset that Anya was dead! Money was not at the forefront of my mind! As to the Council, Giles is a good man, a man I wish was my father, but I consider it, at best, a necessary evil."

"You've obviously lost it. I'm gonna bring you…"

"Shut up." Both Xander and Buffy stared at Cassandra, having forgotten about their audience.

"When Xander told me about you, he told me about your courage, your skill, and wit. He told me you were a hero. Now, I've met you for myself, you're a disappointment. Since you got here, you've belittled him, tried to tell me what to do and generally made a fool of yourself. I mean, high heels in the desert! What were you thinking? I chose to stay with Xander, as he rescued me from the demons trying to sell me to the highest bidder. A prostitution ring was winning when he came for me. He helps as many as he can, of any race, creed, religion or species with everything he has. Go away. You're not needed here."

"Xander! Are you gonna let her say that?"

"Her own observations Buff. I happen to agree with them. Go home."

"If you don't come with me, you're off the Council! Giles agrees with me. And if your little friend doesn't come in, she'll end up designated a rogue Slayer! You know what'll happen then!" Buffy yelled.

Xander shook his head sadly. "Guess I over-estimated the G-Man. Huh. Alright then."

"You'll come in."

"No. I'm off the Council."

Buffy gaped at him. Xander stepped forward, getting into her face.

"And if you guys send anyone after Cass, I'll kill you."

Buffy had a flashback to the beginning of her second year at Sunnydale High. 'If they've hurt Willow because you didn't do your job, I'll kill you.'

"Xander, you are coming with me."

Buffy grabbed his arm, intending to drag him to her car, only to have him stick a syringe in her arm. She suddenly felt fuzzy, as if ill."

"Wha, what was tha…"

"The cruciamentum serum mixed with a fast acting sedative. Giles shipped me some after I had to kill a Slayer who _had_ gone rogue and was terrorising her village. Goodnight Buff."

As Buffy sank into unconsciousness, she saw Xander turn to Cassandra. The last thing she heard was;

"Looks like I'm a rogue now. I suggest you go to London and talk to G-Man."

"No, I'm staying with you."

Buffy heard the absolute loyalty in her voice, and remembered when Xander spoke to her like that. When did it go wrong? With that thought, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Unknown Date / Cairo 

When Buffy awoke, she found herself in a hotel room, with a first class ticket to London in her pocket and a letter addressed to Rupert Giles in her hand. As she made her way to the airport, she considered what had happened.

"Stupid bastard, he's gonna wind up getting in a heap of trouble, come calling for help and expect us to fall all over him. Giles is going to kill me for losing the new slayer."

23/03/04 / Watcher HQ / ICSW Emergency Meeting

"You said what?"

"You, you, idiot!"

"B, you stupid…"

"Oh dear lord…"

"Xander's gone?" there was a thump.

At the centre of the shouting sat Buffy, unconcernedly filing her nails.

"Well!" demanded Giles

"He was being unreasonable, he needed to be reminded who's in charge, and that he needs us. A couple of weeks and he'll come crawling back."

"Were you even listening to the letter? He's sent back his council credit cards and cheque-book, both used very sparsely I might add, a request for his back-pay to be paid into a numbered Swiss account and formally renounced his membership of the ICSW!"

"It's Xander, he'll be back. Besides, Giles, you were talking about recalling him just the other day."

"For the short-term, to give him some direction in the training of a Slayer!"

"What, Xander?"

"Good Lord, you're all blind and deaf aren't you? Every single Slayer he has recruited has been singing his praises and jockeying to be assigned to the African office, despite the paucity of demons there. He is responsible for the reconstruction of our North Africa branch and three-quarters of the tribes he's met like the lad. The other quarter worship him! We'll get no help from them finding Xander and Cassandra."

"Willow can find them."

"But I won't."

"What?"

"Buffy, you kicked him out, threatened his friend and tried to force him to do what you want. I hope and pray he'll stay in contact with the rest of us, but as I know Xander would never do anything malicious or selfish, there is no need to find him, or any Slayer who accompanies him."

Buffy looked shocked. "Bu, but we need to make sure he's okay! He could get hurt!"

"Buffy, the fact is, Xander's one serious injury came when he followed another without question. He'll be fine."

Robin Wood chipped in from a video link. "Harris has been a busy bee over the years. Yesterday, a man came into our New York office, carrying a large crate. He left it in the lobby, said 'Harris said you could use these.' and walked out. The crate contained one hundred customised machine-pistols…"

"He's been gun-happy since that Halloween. Guns don't work on Vamps!"

"…customised to fire these." Wood held up a unique looking bullet. "The bullet contains a UV-emitting gel which disintegrates vampiric flesh on contact. A head-shot or one to the heart would kill a vamp."

"Huh!"

"How?"

"Good Lord! Could you describe the man please Robin?"

"Sure Rupert. He was a tall black guy in dark clothes. He had a Katana poking out the back of his coat. Oh, and he wore dark glasses."

"Blade. Oh, Dear Lord."

Who is this guy Giles? Do we need to slay him?"

"Buffy. One, we don't slay the people who've just given us excellent weapons to combat vampires from a distance. Two, I doubt you, or any of us short of Willow, could hurt him. The man is called Blade. His mother was bitten by a vampire during labour, who turned her. As a result of this, Blade is a Dhampire, a half-human / half-vampire. Called the Daywalker as he suffers none of the vampire specific weaknesses, crosses, holy water, sunlight etc., he protects New York from vampiric predators. His name strikes fear in demons the world over."

"How do you know this?"

"Do you remember how both myself and Xander were dismissive of the idea that your mothers illness was supernatural in origin?"

"Yes."

"It was because Xander met Blade on his Road trip…"

"He did not, he never got past Oxnard!"

"His car broke down coming back, not on the outbound leg."

"Well, he asked Blade to visit Sunnydale. Not to stay, but to help explain to the local demons that 'civilian' family members were off-limits as targets/hostages. As I understood it, he stood in the background as Xander stated his terms, introduced himself and despatched a Polgaran who didn't believe him. I got to meet him, it was quite an, ah, honour."

"So he kills vamps and the odd demon. We recruit him and then…"

"Buffy, as I choose to believe you are not stupid, I'll assume you mis-heard. He gave us the weapons on Xander's say-so. If we attempt to control him, he'll disappear and we'll have lost a valuable contact."

"But Giles, it's just Xander…"

"Just Xander!"

"Calm down Willow."

"Ok Giles." huffed Willow.

"Buffy, you are talking about a man who, in his one 'holiday' from fighting vampires, demons and the forces of darkness, tracked down the most feared demon hunter of the age. Not to mention that he has an open invitation to visit the Charmed Ones… Frankly Buffy, Xander isn't 'just' anything.

"But…"

"Be Quiet. I propose we keep our ears open. We don't try to find Xander, but we can try his phone, see if he will consent to speak with us. It will likely take a while before he calms down. Willow, if you would be so good to find him and go to him, telling none of us where he may be, simply to assure him that not all of us disregard his past actions and value. Also, remind him he has friends without pressuring him to return. Oh, please convince him to call Dawn, as soon as she wakes up, she'll be inconsolable."

"Seems like a plan."

"Okie dokey."

"You got it G."

"Good. Meeting adjourned."

As video screens winked off, and the English contingent left the communications centre (Carrying the unconscious Dawn with them, presumably to a medical station.), Buffy was left where she was sitting.

"But, it's just Xander…"

23/03/04 / Dakar - Senegal

"Mr Alexander Harris? Miss Cassandra Newman?"

Xander and Cassandra looked up from their meal at hearing the English-accented words.

"Yes? Who are you?"

"My name is Bond, James Bond. I am an agent of the British Government, and have been asked to relay a request for a meeting."

"Who with and regarding what?"

"Sir Basil Covington, a high ranking member of Britain's MI5, the equivalent of your FBI."

"Regarding…?"

"A matter of mutual interest, I was told. I was also informed that the ICSW would not be informed by him, and that Miss Newman was under no threat at all. I believe the phrase he used regarding detaining her was 'absolutely out of the question'. Anything else?"

"That it must be of great importance to have the most successful double-0 in your… "Xander's eye flicked around them "…parent organisation to act as a messenger. Excellent job with that satellite by the way. When and where?"

Bond's eyes flickered slightly as he wondered how Xander knew about _that_.

"Three days, Cardiff city centre."

"We'll think about it."

"Excellent. From what I've heard, we all owe you more than we can repay. But your file says you dislike praise, so I'll bid you a good day." With that, he was gone.

23/03/04 / Los Angeles - USA

There was a knock at the door. While the Centre had been hunting, an unexpected knock had Jarod double-check his security and possibly climb out the window. Now, after the Centre had been dissolved, due in no small part to himself, he merely checked that whoever was at the door wasn't a known bad guy. He wasn't.

"Jarod McNally?"

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Jack Ryan. I'm an…"

"Analyst for the CIA, recently you defused a potential Nuclear War arising from the terrorist attack in Denver. You've been knighted by the Queen of England for services rendered regarding an IRA plot. You've yet to tell your girlfriend about your job. Hmm, what do want with me?"

"H, How did you know that!" stammered Jack.

Jarod grinned.

"You mean you don't know? Interesting. What do you want with me?"

"You've been invited to a meeting in Cardiff, three days from now. It's with…"

"Sir Basil Covington."

"How do you do that?"

"Your only contact in Britain who has the pull to get you off normal duties to deliver this invite. Elementary really."

"Uh, while the invite is from him, the directive that I be the one to deliver it came from our own Justice Department."

"Fascinating." Jarod cocked his head to one side as he began to 'sim' what could cause this. "hmm…"

"Unless there's anything else?" asked Ryan.

"Nothing, just ask your superiors to pass on my regards to Mr Trilby."

"Uh, Sure. Are you going to come to the meeting?"

"I think I will. I'll make my own arrangements, goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mr McNally."

24/03/04 / Croft Manor

"Lady Croft, there is a gentleman calling for you."

"Thank you Hillary, I'll be there directly."

"Excellent, I have directed him to the smoking room."

"Does he smoke?"

"I don't know milady. I thought to give him the option. Do you require anything else?"

"No thank you Hillary."

As Lady Lara Croft, Tomb Raider extraordinaire, made her way to the 'Smoking room', she wondered who would be dropping by unannounced. Most wanting her to retrieve an artefact phoned ahead, if only to make certain she was available. Opening the door, she suddenly smiled widely.

"James!"

"Hello Lara. Pleased to see me?"

"Of course I am!" Lara strode forward and hugged him tightly. "I haven't seen you since that business in Tibet."

Bond returned the hug. "Well, well, well. Lara Croft all grown up and causing international incidents. MI6 used a lot of favours covering you during that business with the Illuminati."

"Good for them. I just hope you didn't use any of your personal 'solids' to help me out."

"None I would miss. Lara, M wants payback on the pull she used."

"I told her predecessor, and I'll tell her. I am not a spy."

"That's not what she wants."

"Oh?" Lara was intrigued, due to her connections around the world, it seemed that half the intelligence agencies in the world considered her a potential asset.

"She says that if you attend one meeting, with Sir Basil Covington in two days, in Cardiff, the slate will be wiped clean. She also said that if you chose not to go, then she intends to recruit you, whether you wish to be recruited or not."

"James, I'm appalled that you're involved in this, this blackmail. Those Illuminati scum were this close to obtaining an artefact which would have given them the ability to rule the world! I stopped them, and now I'm being threatened with forced conscription?"

"I advised M against this, but she's adamant that either you go to this meeting, or you become an agent of MI6. I'm sorry. And for the record, she's my boss, so I have to do what she tells me in cases like this. I would offer to guarantee your safety, but I think you'd be safe enough anyway. You could probably handle any security or trap yourself, with Harris there…"

"Harris?"

"Damn. This is off the record, understood. No-one can find out you know this from me."

"Acceptable, if it's accurate."

"Lara, it's me." Bond grinned. "Has your research covered 'Le Boca del Inferno?"

"Sure. A supposed portal to Hell, capable of ending the world etc. etc. If the texts can be believed, one tenth of the dangerous occult artefacts in the world reside within ten klicks of it, but no-one knows where it is. Relevance?"

"We, MI6, know where it was."

"Was? It's a fixed point. It can't get up and wander away!"

"You've seen more than most, so at the risk of sounding crazy, I'll ask. Do you know that Vampires exist?"

"With the Watchers spouting off about them to everyone at every party they get drunk at…"

"You're more informed than even I thought." Bond said with a grin. "The Hellmouth attracted them in huge numbers. A chosen warrior…"

"The Slayer."

Bond raised an eyebrow "…indeed, was there to fight them. Along the way, she gained allies. With these allies, she eventually closed the Hellmouth, resulting in the collapse of Sunnydale."

"The gateway to hell was in Southern California under a town called 'Sunnydale'?" Lara asked, incredulous."

"I believe that it was in fact beneath Sunnydale High School."

"Wow."

"Well, one of her allies has broken with her recently. It must have been important. He was there from beginning to end, seven years of fighting, from Sophomore year to the closing of the Hellmouth and beyond. His name is Alexander Harris, and he'll be at the meeting. Bug's we've planted in the Watchers meeting areas suggest that he is quite possibly a) the bravest man alive, b) a total loony, or c) both. He is however, an accomplished fighter and effectively a White Knight. If things went nasty, not that I expect them to, He'd back you up, and possibly back the government down."

"An American kid is going to stare down the British Government!"

"Why not, he did it to Angelus." Lara's mouth went dry at the infamous name.

"How…!"

"I'm afraid I don't have the time. I have another to convince to attend. Lara, I'm almost certain no-one at the meeting will intend you harm. Goodbye." Bond leant in and kissed her cheek

"Goodbye James."

As Bond let himself out, he half turned.

"Oh Lara."

"Yes James?"

"Ask him about the Mayor's Ascension, he enjoys that story. Try not to stare at the eye patch, it's real." With that, Bond turned away and slid into his Q-customised Austin-Martin DB-9.

"Eye patch!"

25/03/04 / Outside the Colorado Springs FBI office

"Why am I here again?" Jack asked himself. It was a rhetorical question. Whoever had called him had the Sarge's unconditional trust. Jack, before the whole 'teenaged-body' thing, had met Sergeant Mack Bolan exactly twice. Once before the incident with Charlie, once after. Both times Bolan had saved his life. The first from a member of the Yakuza who he'd insulted. The second was when Jack had stopped caring. Sara was gone, Charlie was, dead, and he was alone. He hadn't ate for a week. Bolan had dropped in (literally, down the chimney!) to straighten him out. It hadn't been pleasant, but afterwards Jack was functioning again, if barely. Then Bolan said;

Several years ago

"I've read your file. All of it. You're a man who's been to hell and back, but you never brought it home to trouble your family. You're a man to trust. If you ever need me, call this number and say 'twenty-twenty-alpha'. It'll reach me and I'll come as fast as I can. If I ever contact you and don't say it, you're in trouble and need to get out. If someone you don't know mentions me and the code, I trust them as well. Goodbye Jack, it'll be a while before I see you again." With that, Bolan had left, a puzzled Jack behind him.

Present

"Jack Lazarus?"

"Yes?"

"Mr Brognola is expecting you inside."

As Jack made his way inside, he passed a pair of FBI Special Agents.

"Mulder, once again this is a wild goose chase. Aliens in Colorado Springs, where would they hide?" despaired the red-head.

"Cheer up Scully, I'm sure… huh?"

"What?"

As Jack walked further away, he barely heard the man, Mulder, say;

"That kid looks familiar, plus he looks far too young to have a meeting in there…"

Keeping alert, Jack followed the directions to 'Mr Brognola's' office. Entering, he instinctively swept the room for threats, finding only the man seated behind the desk.

"Hal Brognola, I presume."

"Indeed Mr Lazarus. While I am certain that we are not monitored right now, please keep your unusual, origins, quiet for now."

"Yeah sure, you betcha." Jack grinned.

"Oh no." muttered Brognola. "Another smartass. Oh well." He squared his shoulders. "Mr Lazarus, due to your all too rare talents and experience, I would like you to join a newly forming organisation, labelled the PPC, for the purposes of saving the world."

"Really?" Jack sat up.

"Really. A group is being assembled to confront many of the dangers which plague this world. Not the Goa'uld I'm afraid, but we do have our own line of murderous parasites. Plus assorted threats, some you're familiar with, some you're not."

"Does this have anything to do with the SGC?"

"No. While the SGC is a valuable resource and an reliable command, it only has minor links to this operation, mainly the odd SG team member who knows of some of the stuff you'll be facing."

"And they haven't told their superior officers about a threat to the world because…?"

"Jack, do you remember the paperwork regarding the 'DRI', or Demon Research Initiative?"

"Oh shit."

"You do, Good. While there is an international combat team working under the auspices of the UN to deal with supernatural threats, there are circumstances in which they, as a covert force, cannot be involved with. The recent disappearance/reappearance of the sun in LA for instance. This new team will be almost entirely autonomous, for a period we predict to be no more than ten years. This is so they can deal with threats which require an overt presence without leading back to us. We need people we can trust to staff it. You were suggested as open-minded enough to accept the truth and trustworthy enough to entrust with several billion dollars and no oversight."

"Whoa. Who's the other guys you're getting in on this?"

"For the core group? Who know who the initial backers are?"

"Yep."

"Four others. If you're interested, you can come to a meeting with them which I myself am attending. They are quite a colourful bunch."

"I'm in, for the sales pitch at least. If I don't like what I hear, I walk."

"Agreed. Would you like me to provide transportation, or will you arrange your own."

"Officially, I'm not even allowed to drive, what do you think?"

"I'll have someone collect you at six this evening. See you there."

"Bye." With that, Jack left, a bounce in his step which hadn't been there for some time.

26/03/04 / Cardiff - Wales / Morning

There was an insistent knocking at the door. The sole occupant of the house dragged himself to his feet, staggered across the room and downed some old, cold, coffee. Pulling on a dressing gown, he made his way to the front door, then opening it.

"Yes?"

"Mr James Herbert Chase?"

"Indeed."

"Formerly Lamont Cranston…"

"I beg your pardon!"

"…operating under the moniker 'The Shadow' and responsible for certain activities in the nature of a vigilante?"

"I'm afraid you are under a misapprehension sir. I…"

"Mr Cranston, elements of her Majesty's government are well aware of your activities. Under ordinary circumstances, we would leave you be. However, recent events require us to assemble a group of, unique, individuals to combat threats the world over."

"Look, who are you?"

"Bond, James Bond."

"Well, if I'm supposed to be this, ah, 'Shadow' character, why wouldn't I, say, **You are mistaken. There is no Shadow, you may go about your business?**"

Bond blinked, then smiled slightly.

"You really are very good. Almost got by the psychic dampers Q put together. Relax Mr Cranston, you are in no trouble. I'm just here to escort you to a meeting with the other 'unique' individuals. What you do afterwards is up to you."

Cranston glared at Bond.

"I suppose I have no choice."

"Excellent, lets go."

"Go where?"

"To the future, Mr Cranston. Where else could we go?"

26/03/04 / Cardiff - Wales / Afternoon

As each person arrived, they took a seat in front of a table with three chairs behind it.

Lamont Cranston was the first to arrive. Taking a seat near the back, he was surprised to see Bond exit the room, leaving him alone.

Next to appear was Jack Lazarus, accompanied by Mr Brognola. He took a seat which, while close to the door, allowed him to surreptitiously study Cranston. Brognola meanwhile, took one of the three seats behind the desk.

Next entered Xander and Cassandra, talking animatedly about whittling techniques and where was the best place to get a good sword these days. Jack studied them, wondering why someone choosing to wear an eye-patch was considered trustworthy. Cranston reached out with his mind, trying to get an insight into the new arrivals. His intrusion was obviously noticed, given the scowl on Xander's face.

As he scowled at Cranston, Lara Croft entered. Glancing around, she then headed directly towards Xander.

"Good Afternoon. My name is Lara Croft. I was told you knew the former location of the Hellmouth, would you care to reveal it?"

"I recognised you. Xander Harris. And no. There are too many dangerous things lying around there to send anyone to it."

Jack's eyes widened. Xander Harris, the long-time ally of the Slayer! He'd been there to save the world as many times as Jack himself! But why the eye-patch?

Lamont's jaw dropped. Hellmouth, the Tulku had spoken of such, centres of evil that drew the undead to them. This child knew where it was!

"Oh well, can't blame a girl for trying. Do you have any war stories you'd care to share? I was told you enjoy remembering the, uh, Mayor's Ascension?"

Xander grinned. "Ah, the joys of blowing up your High School for fully justified reasons."

"Cool." exclaimed Jack.

"It was, it was. Now, as myself and Lady Croft…"

"How'd you know?"

"I recognised you from your file photo, it doesn't do you justice. Now, we've both introduced ourselves, how about you two?"

"Jack Lazarus."

"Mind telling me what a high school aged guy, with a name relating to returning to life, is doing here?"

Jack was torn. His status as a clone, and how this came to be, were highly classified. In the end, he decided upon caution.

"When we know each other a little better. I'll say this though, I'm older than I look."

"OK. And you sir?"

"Lamont Cranston. Were you bullied into this as well?"

"What? No. We…"

"Who is this lovely lady?"

"…were invited. Cass?"

"Cassandra Newman. Why were you bullied…"

Before the conversation could get any further, the doors opened once more, admitting two gentlemen in suits. One had an eye-patch, both were grey haired.

"Spence. Sir Basil." greeted Brognola.

"As Mr McNally seems to have decided not to join us…"

"But I'm right here."

Everyone whipped round to stare at a chair they'd thought unoccupied. Sitting in it was Jarod 'McNally' (for now at least.)

"How, How'd he get there!" gasped Jack, he'd been certain there were only the five (Brognola, Lamont, Xander, Cassandra and Lara) plus himself. Somehow this guy had got past him!

"A point we'll cover. Gentlemen, Ladies, now that we are all here, let us begin…"

Thought you guys deserved a longer chapter. How's this shaping up? Oh, by the way, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease review. See you next time for the next exciting instalment of

'_**The Paladin Provision'**_


	3. Introductions

I own none of the recognizable characters portrayed within. And probably none of the unrecognizable… The reviews were most helpful, thanks. As to my depiction of Buffy, I was assuming that with the success of her 'plan' in Chosen, she would revert to her 'General Buffy' persona. I was trying for a Buffy who takes Xander for granted and is overly certain of herself. It was thought I 'stretched' the Dr's Jones. At the end of 'The Last Crusade', both drank from the Holy Grail, which, in their continuity at least, extends lifetimes (eg. The Knight in the Last Crusade.) so I don't think I did. As for the Shadow, yeah I stretched to get him for this. For Bond, I'm thinking Pierce Brosnan era.

* * *

26/03/04 / Cardiff - Wales / Afternoon - (Immediately follows previous chapter.

"A point we'll cover. Gentlemen, Ladies, now that we are all here, let us begin. You five, plus the lovely Miss Newman, have been gathered to do what we, as covert agencies, cannot. We wish you to intervene in situations which threaten the world…" began the eldest of the three.

"All well and good. I've been doing that for years. Why us, and why now?" asked Xander, bluntly.

Brognola took up the thread. "Our respective governments are more aware of supernatural activities than the average citizen. Why do you think you were never investigated regarding that rocket launcher?"

"Rocket Launcher?" whispered Lara to Cassandra, who shrugged.

"But I'm getting off track. We three have an 'informal' meeting about once a year. One year ago we decided to assemble this group, researching various organisations, vigilantes and military units for those we could trust to do the job. We have also each been assembling equipment and funds for your operation."

"Ah." interrupted Jarod "You want us to operate without official sanction. These 'funds' we would have to invest to provide for our own operating expenses. Interesting."

"Indeed Mr McNally." said Trilby. Xander twitched.

"That's the why now. So, why us?"

Our files place each of you on pedestals. Alexander LaVelle Harris, has prevented the End of Days single-handedly three times…"

"Four."

"Sorry, four times, in conjunction with others, eight times with the help of others. Retains some knowledge from being possessed by the spirit of a soldier during one Halloween. Has despatched an unknown, though large, number of vampires and demons, including a member of an order of Assassins dating to the time of King Solomon. Basic knowledge of Latin, Ancient Sumerian, Etruscan and numerous demonic languages…"

"You missed out Klingon."

"…Supported the Slayer and group throughout numerous crises, both demonic and domestic. Has a White Knight complex making him incapable of leaving anyone who needs help. Lost his eye fighting a creature stronger than a slayer, or any demon he'd encountered to date. Having seen the strongest fighters in his group brushed aside, he still tackled the guy to save an innocent girl. Frankly, that alone would have got you considered for this if we'd found out about it." Trilby then grinned. "Finally, has an unerring ability to date demons without knowing it and is the focus of more crushes by my researchers than anyone they've ever profiled before."

"Uhh…"

Trilby chuckled "Heck, a couple swapped teams to have those crushes!"

"Uhh…" Xander's eyebrows rose, "Me!"

"Yep. Now, Cassandra Newman. Recently activated Slayer, proficient in both a 'hard' and 'soft' martial art, as well as being exposed to Harris', unique, style of fighting. Recently helped take out a Shaman using Magic to oppress an African village."

Brognola took up the recital. "Jack Lazarus, the physically sixteen-year-old clone of Colonel Jonathan O'Neill with all of his memories, currently attending Colorado High School, himself responsible for saving the world on a couple of occasions…"

"Doncha mean the 'real me'?" Jack snarked.

"No, until the incident, you were Colonel Jack O'Neill, with all his successes and failures until that time on your head. Anyway, expert Special Forces soldier and small-team leader. Holds the record for most cautions in a serving officer."

"Mostly right." put in Jack "But I was expelled from Colorado High the day ya contacted me." He grinned "Apparently, stopping bullies is now a punishable activity."

"Yes, well. Jarod McNally, kidnapped by a 'research centre' as a young baby, subjected to genetic experiments and conditioning, resulting in the ability to 'simulate' the thought processes of any person. He can read a book on brain surgery in the morning and perform the operation that afternoon. Escaping their captivity, and discovering their influence behind the scenes, he ran. Despite being hunted, Mr McNally looked for wrongs to right through newspapers and Internet Search engines. We have proof of maybe 20 of the interventions we suspect he was involved in, all of which resulted in the best result practical."

Sir Basil took up the briefing. "Lady Lara Croft, expert markswoman, gymnast and proficient in a wide-range of languages, both modern and ancient. Aditionally, Lady Croft has herself prevented potentially apocalyptic events from arising on several occasions. For example, she prevented Pandora's Box from being activated, or the Dagger of Xian being utilised. Relies on the support of her Butler, Hillary…"

"Shades of Batman." exclaimed Xander quietly. Cassandra nodded in agreement.

"…and an Australian national called Bryce. Finally, Lady Croft has contacts worldwide, information dealers to pawn shops, military units to monasteries."

"Alright, that's five of us. Who's he?" asks Cassandra, pointing at Lamont.

Again, Sir Basil took up the introduction. "This is Lamont Cranston…"

Jarod inhaled sharply. "The Shadow?" he asked, derailing Sir Basil's monologue.

Sir Basil _almost_ gaped at him. (He didn't, of course. British Knights do not _gape_.) "How the devil did you guess that?" (Express surprise, yes.)

"I spent some time in New York. I was curious regarding the citywide pneumatic message tube system and investigated it. There were a few cut-outs, but I learnt that one Lamont Cranston had arranged for it. Nothing on the human side though. It was through the financial records that I discovered that much. Intrigued, I researched the era, and discovered rumours of a 'Shadow' who acted as a vigilante. There were stories of lives saved and an entire hotel appearing out of nowhere. I put the matter on hold, as there was nothing more than circumstantial evidence to link the two and the Centre was getting close. As you yourself said, we've been gathered to save the world. Lamont Cranston is hardly a common name, so I decided to ask."

"Yes, well, Mr Cranston has been operating as 'The Shadow' for some time. He possesses various talents which seem to depend on psychic ability. Mind-reading and apparent invisibility for instance. Mr Cranston also uses a pair of Colt .45's with which he is an expert, and has a talent for building networks to supply information and technical support. He prevented the destruction of New York, at the least, by an unknown individual who had acquired the inspiration for the 'Manhattan Project'."

"You mean…?"

"Yes Lady Croft, an atomic bomb. The mastermind behind the plot was never captured or even identified…"

"His name was Shiwan Khan. He was, in fact, the last remaining descendant of Temujin, or

Genghis Khan. He became this by slaughtering his family before the incident. He was taught by the Tulku, a master of various psychic abilities, who had previously taught me. He murdered the Tulku before coming to New York. Shiwan attempted to recruit me, I refused. He is currently contained and his abilities removed. Anything else?"

"Why would he attempt to recruit you?" asked Xander.

"Before I became the Shadow, I worked on the other side of the line. I was rather, infamous. Shiwan had heard of me, described me as his 'idol'. He believed I would aid him because of this."

"Oh hell, we invited a crook!" exclaimed Brognola.

"Mr Cranston, what guise did you assume during your time on 'the other side of the line'?" queried Sir Basil.

"I choose not to say."

"Well, damn. If it's that bad we've no choice but to detain you." growled Trilby.

"You'd find that harder than expected."

"And it won't happen." heads turned towards the voice's owner, Cassandra Newman.

"And why not?"

"He became the Shadow after this period…" She turned to Cranston "…to atone, right?"

"Yes." he answered slowly.

"Then there's no point to detaining him and every reason not to. He is now a good guy, plus you'd likely lose most of us here. Me and Xand won't work with you because we wouldn't trust you not to detain _us_ if you felt like it."

"Plus, we were assured this meeting would not result in detainment." spoke up Xander "In my book, that means everyone, not just those who haven't crossed some line that exist in your heads. Demon hunting is hardly legal. Neither is Tomb Raiding. His background, while bad, doesn't bother me at all."

"You mean you know who he was…"

"Yep." Xander directed a one-eyed glare at the triumvirate over the table, "If you didn't know before, you should have researched us all better."

"Mr Harris…"

"Hal, be quiet." Trilby stared at the six people arrayed around the room. "We chose these people because they are the best, and they do what's right. If Mr Harris is aware of Mr Cranston's prior, activities, yet is still willing to work with him, then I say we drop it. I am curious as to how you know…?"

"The old Watchers Council looked into everything. They had old 'Monty' here under observation due to his supernatural abilities."

Sir Basil Covington and Hal Brognola looked at each other, then at Spencer Trilby.

"I feel…" began Sir Basil, "… that if you choose to work with us, then you must inform the other direct members of the organisation, for trust to be established. We three, are not direct members. Is that acceptable?"

"The other's here. If anyone joins later, it's up to our discretion."

"Very well. We've given the introductions, incomplete as they may be. As we've stated, we will provide the initial funds and certain equipment for your use. Are you in?"

Lady Croft grinned. "Well, if you have some non-disclosure agreements handy, we can discuss the arrangements would be. I'm agreeing to nothing without knowing the particulars of the job."

"Us neither." Said Xander, speaking for himself and Cassandra.

"I'm intrigued enough for that." said Jarod.

"It gets me out of having to go to school, I want to know more." grinned Jack.

"I can hardly say no to knowing more." commented Lamont dryly.

"This, at least, we anticipated." commented Trilby, as he reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He passed them over, and smiled as he saw the varying levels of apparent scrutiny. Jarod seemed to be flicking through casually, glancing at each page. Lamont was paying close attention to the main clauses. Lady Croft was studying it all. Jack flicked through it and signed, while Xander was checking the clauses, the sub-clauses and the paper itself, while Cassandra was waiting for his decision. Finally, they had all signed the non-disclosure agreements and settled in. It was time for answers…

* * *

I know, I'm evil leaving it at that, but I'm trying to figure out just what to give them. Money, that's for definite. Weapons? Vehicles? A submarine? an aeroplane?'tricorders'? I figure one more chapter before there's much action, suggestions are welcome and PLEASE review. Please. 


	4. Loading up

Mea culpa, mea culpa. The delay is unfortunate, but there have been, problems, with internet access lately. It's here now though!

Once again, I do not own the characters contained herein…

* * *

"What are you offering?" This was the first question, asked by Lara Croft. 

"We are prepared to supply a sum equal to two billion pounds sterling, along with a few minor pieces of equipment." Offered Brognola.

"Completely unacceptable…" Began Jack.

"The sum is more than generous." Interrupted Lamont "But what exact 'equipment' are you offering?"

"A modified Osprey tilt-wing retro-fitted with jet engines and an internal structure suited to your purpose. Small arms in the vein of 20 Fabrique-Nationale

P-90's and 30 FN-FiveSeven pistols. A thousand rounds of custom ammunition designed for anti-demonic use and six clips per gun. 12 modified Atchisson combat shotguns with drum clips and anti-demon rounds. Four M206 grenade launchers with customised attachments for the P-90 or the Atchisson. Ten grenades in each of the standard rounds – hi-ex, concussion, AP etc. Four zat'nik'atels and six intars – four pistol variants and two sub-gun variants. Mr Lazarus here can vouch for the effectiveness of both zat's and intars."

Jack nodded to the rest of them, who took him at his word until they could test them for themselves.

"A small number of grenades. The latest field watch issued to MI6 agents for each of you and this." Trilby placed a small metallic rectangle in the middle of the table.

"What's that?" Cassandra was first to ask, but they were all curious.

"A couple of years ago…" began Brognola "…there was a temporal event in San Francisco. We are still unsure as to what exactly happened, but it appeared to focus on the Technodyne building and several pieces of technology from the future were recovered. This is one of them. It took over a year, but we've discovered it to be a mobile holographic emitter capable of producing 'hard-light'. It took some work, but we managed to charge it and, well, see for yourselves."

Brognola tapped a button on the top of the 'mobile-emitter'. A 'man' appeared, bald with some dark hair at the sides of 'his' head. He wore a black and blue uniform with some pips at the collar.

"What is the nature of the medical emergency? Oh, it's you again." The apparent doctor growled at Brognola. "I told you, the Temporal Prime Directive prohibits me from giving you any of the information you've requested."

"Bwahahahaha" Xander and Cassandra had gone into hysterics, Lara and Jack looked confused at their reaction while Jarod grinned. Lamont, Brognola, Trilby and Sir Basil all looked baffled at their companions.

"What?" queried the hologram irritably.

"G, Good joke guys." Choked out Xander.

"What joke?" asked Sir Basil.

"Getting the guy from Voyager to make an appearance." Replied a still mirthful Xander.

"How do you know about Voyager!" demanded the hologram. Xander sobered slightly.

"You, you mean this isn't an elaborate practical joke?"

Trilby shook his head slowly.

"And you really have no idea what I'm going on about?"

Brognola just stared at him.

"The U.S.S. Voyager? Lost in the Delta Quadrant? Capt. Kathryn Janeway? Tuvok? Neelix? Seven of Nine? Nothing?"

Sir Basil continued to look befuddled.

"The last good Star Trek series?"

Realisation began to dawn.

"What on earth's Star Trek?" inquired the Doctor.

"Uh, Doctor?" started Cassandra tentatively.

"Yes?"

"This isn't your reality. It must be pretty far off in fact, because here, Starfleet, the Federation, the Borg, is all a television show."

"What!" exclaimed the Doctor

"How did we miss this?" barked Brognola.

"Because our staffs contain a paucity of science-fiction fans, presumably." Replied Sir Basil urbanely.

Lara leant over to Lamont. "Do you have any idea what they're going on about?"

"Not really. I mean, I lent Roddenberry some money for the original series, but I'm sure I'd remember holograms and the like."

"HOLD IT!" the bellow came from Jack, stilling the exited muttering coming from, pretty much everyone. "If I'm guessing right, and I'll bet I am, you want us to take the doc here along as medical support for our operations."

"Well, yes…" began Sir Basil.

"You asked him yet?"

"I beg your pardon?" confusion crossed Sir Basil's face.

Until a coupla days ago, I was a high school student. I watched a _lot_ of TV. The Doc here is an AI, an Artificial Intelligence. The SGC has had a few dealings with them, and unless you're designated their superior officer, which none of _us_ are, you can only ask them politely, not order them around."

"But it's a hologram, a computer." Spluttered Brognola.

"And we're bits of meat animated by sugar and bio-electrical impulses." Put in Jarod.

"Uh, excuse me?" the Doctor called attention to himself. "What 'operations' will these be, exactly?"

"An initially covert war with hostile beings, with the probability of it becoming overt within the next decade. If you decide to join us, you wouldn't be fighting, more patching us up when we get injured. While we wouldn't insist on you providing us with future technology, I personally would appreciate any medical technology you feel you could safely contribute. I don't know about the others, but there's only so many more bit's I can lose before having to take a back-seat to the combat side of things." Offered Xander seriously.

"I presume that the eye-patch isn't decoration?"

"You'd presume correctly."

"Lost it in this 'covert war'?"

"Yep."

"Are you the aggressors I this conflict?"

"We most certainly are not!" insisted Trilby, but Xander quieted him with a gesture.

"Technically, we are. As in, this group will be searching our enemy out from their strongholds and hide-outs. However, the most common of our enemy exist by draining humans of all their blood until they are dead. They do this despite the fact that they can live off of pig or cow blood and need not completely drain their victims. In all of our recorded history, of which we have about five thousand years of at this point, there have been three of that variant who defeated their nature, all within the last hundred years and all due to the highly immoral actions of homo-sapiens. One of them would have starved to death if we hadn't found him because of a behaviour modification chip forcibly implanted in his brain."

The doctor looked aghast at the lack of morality inherent in such a procedure.

"Another had an innocent psyche placed 'in-the-driving-seat' as it were. The catch, the new psyche felt the guilt for what the creature had done its time. But the second it forgot that guilt, the original psyche was unleashed, which led to a rather large number of deaths before it was stopped. The last only stopped drinking blood because its employer demanded that it not, and tested regularly for it. If she'd refused, she'd have been staked. Apart from those three, all the others are either mass-murderers on a massive scale, dead, or both."

"I would have to research the matter carefully, but you appear to be justified in your actions. What happened to these non-aggressive specimens?"

"'Chip' died saving the world, was resurrected by means unknown, then died saving the world a second time. 'Psyche' had his good side returned and fought unregenerate members of the species. He died in the same battle as 'Chip's' second death. Stakee, don't know. Presumed dead in same battle as other two."

"I will consider this information further, but currently I have no objection to serving as medical officer for this venture."

There were murmurs of gratitude from the newly assembled field team, and some grumbles from over the table.

"Returning to the matter of your provisions for this enterprise." Began Lamont "They are, of course, impressive. I would appreciate the addition of some low-key ground transportation, preferably able to fit in the Osprey."

Sir Basil looked at his companions, then shrugged.

"While they aren't quite cutting edge, I could provide a couple of converted BMW's, each comfortably seating five. Armour plated and armed of course. Some 'point-and-shoot' missiles, two ground-to-air missiles, a roof mounted retractable turret of two barrels with a 360 degree field of fire, a 0 to 20 degree elevation and holding one thousand rounds in 5.7mm. Re-inflating tyres and a three round mortar cannon in 200mm. Alas, there is no boot space. I believe that they can fit in the Osprey as it is. Fully loaded, of course."

"Much appreciated." Murmured Lamont.

"Could you give us some more details on this 'Osprey' please?" piped up Cassandra "We really should know what we're gonna travel in."

Jack, Lara and Jarod looked slightly chagrined. Xander looked proud.

"I won't go into statistics here, but the general outline of the plane is this." Began Brognola, the man who'd overseen the modifications to the plane. "In the nose is the main navigational array, radar, instruments and the like. Behind that, the Osprey has two levels. On the lower, we have the computer centre. It's cramped, only space for one person in there and that would be for repairs, as software access to the computers is via remote terminals. Behind that is the armoury. The weaponry we're providing will fill the racks by about half, we figured you'd have your own stuff, or would build some. There's space for three thousand rounds at a pinch, but two and three-quarter thou would be better, safety-wise. That's in insulated, fire-proof cupboards by the way. Aft of the Armoury is the Workshop. For its size it's the most capable of its kind ever built. CAD facilities are far beyond the on-hand CAM facilities I'm afraid, but there are the tools and materials for constructing all sorts of toys." His grin when he said this suggested that the 'toys' he spoke of wouldn't be suitable for kids. "Also present in the workshop is the belly access hatch. Beneath this is a drop-boat. Basically, you get in it, and you drop. It has facilities for the waterproof storage of 5 P-90's and side-arms, which is convenient, because you won't fit more than five people in there before the drop, and that's with _really_ friendly people. Maximum rated drop is 20 meters. And I mean maximum. We dropped one from twenty-two meters and it went rather leaky, people. The drop-boat can be collected by winch, five lines are lowered from the hull of the Osprey and attached to the boat and it is picked up. The boat-to-hull seal isn't airtight, but the seal of the belly hatch is. We added this feature because the Osprey is not rated for water landings, and our modifications have, in fact, made it even less capable of doing so in an emergency. If you have to ditch in the water, I strongly advise you bail out before you hit. Aft of the Workshop is the main cargo bay. This is where we'll store the BMW's. In the forward port corner is a small washroom with retractable toilet and sink. They're retractable to allow for a shower, we don't advise mixing the activities. Hot water lasts about ten minutes, but re-fills quickly enough. Stored in the main bay are your survival packs, parachutes and emergency rafts. Also present, because we suspected you might wangle ground vehicles out of us, is an equipment chute capable of dropping four tonnes without damage. It may interest you to know that one of the BMW's, fully loaded and with four people on-board, weighs 3.8 tonnes. The aft wall of the hold is the access hatch, providing an entrance and egress for the cars and any other large equipment you need aboard. Heading straight up from the hold we come to a set of six sleeping berths. Forward, we have access to the Command Centre. This is where the computer terminals are. You have the option of internet access, but that will cost a pretty penny. Also present is the safe, should you need to keep anything safe. The terminals are also capable of recreational activities, and there is a communal DVD player/projector and a roll-down screen which then covers the access to the cargo bay. Above the Command centre is your main fuel tank, armour plated naturally, with supplemental fuel held internally within the wings. Additional, external, fuel pods can be attached, but there is a trade-off in maximum attainable flight speed. Just aft of the forward bulkhead is a personnel hatch on the starboard side of the plane. You know, for use with those stair things they wheel up to you on landing. Forward of the Command Centre is a small galley, fridge, freezer, microwave and coffee-maker is about it. The main medical supplies are also kept here, anything needed to be kept cold is in a separate fridge to the food. Forward of the galley is the Cock-pit. This is where you fly the plane. Communications are also routed through here, but the pilot can pass them off to someone in the Command Centre. There's an intercom system and full auto-pilot capable of cruising for extended periods. Also present is remote control of the doors, an indicator panel and, you'll love this, a prototype Structural Integrity Field which allows the Osprey to respond as if it was a fixed wing craft. That thing accounts for a full third of your computer capacity. This can, of course, be turned on and off to allow for its tilt-wing VTOL capability. Also present is a modified missile defence system, which can dispense chaff, befuddle radar and provide jamming against being locked on in the first place. Of course, it does nothing against the Mk1 eyeball. In heavy weather we recommend the presence of Pilot, Co-pilot and Coms officer. There's the BRB, or Big Red Button, which sounds an alert signal to tell the guys in the back to secure any loose items and strap in. The basic hull is bullet-proof. It'll stop a .357 Magnum round at four meters. Unfortunately, high-powered armour-piercing rounds still pierce it, but with a greatly reduced velocity. All the fuels tanks are wrapped in enough layers of the stuff to stop any bullet shot of its target. Finally, recessed into the bottom of the fixed portions of the wings and almost undetectable are two Heavy Staff weapons on each side. They fire forward and have an effective range of about 1000m. They're looted from a crashed Death Glider and our guys estimate are good for up to 2500 shots before they need recharging. This provides you with more firepower than almost any other aircraft in the air today. Additionally, there is pair of grenade ports concealed in the cargo bay on both port and starboard sides. Again, almost undetectable to inspection. All in all, it's a fantastic plane."

Jack spoke up "That sounds really great, but I know how this sort of thing works. You guys have at least three times that 'two billion' squirreled away in penny-packets across the globe which you would prefer not to have to give us but may be persuaded to."

Brognola, Sir Basil and Trilby all stiffened at Jack's accusing tone, then relaxed.

"Well, yes. How exactly are you going to persuade us?" inquired Sir Basil.

"It's irrelevant really." Stated Jarod.

"Why is that, Mr McNally?" growled Trilby.

"Well, your earlier comments stated that this is to be an operation with no official contact. Therefore, the funds you just admitted to having at your disposal are unlikely to be missed. Therefore…"

Lara stepped in. "I suggest that we all calm down." She smiled urbanely at the triumvirate. "Might I suggest a compromise?"

"Suggest away." Invited Brognola.

"Jack doesn't want to operate close to the bankruptcy line, and rightly anticipates the cost of this organisation being large, especially if we have to have large numbers of customised vehicles constructed. I suggest that you put aside £1,750,000,000 for our use. Any large customised vehicles we need, say with an estimated price-tag of £1,000,000 or over, we bring the plans to you and you have built at cost as one of your classified projects. We'll pay half, and you subsidize it from the 1.75 billion you have salted away. When it's gone, it's gone and we'll have our vehicles. You keep the 4.25 billion to use as you see fit, and we're all happy."

Sir Basil and Trilby looked interested, while Brognola looked dubious, so Lara sweetened the pot. "Ok, we pay 51 of the cost, and when the vehicle gets surplussed out due to age or whatever, you get to buy it back for no more than 30 of the total cost, dependant on an independent inspection to assure both sides of it's true worth. You get a set of vehicles designed by us, tested and modified by us, procedures for efficient use worked out by us and completely unknown to be affiliated with your organizations for at most 79 of it's build-price. Your buy-back option obviously drops should the vehicle be surplussed due to damage or worn out parts. What do you say?"

"Whaddya think Hal?" asked Trilby.

"It's a lot more than was initially offered, but it seems like a good deal for all that."

"Sir Basil?"

"I think, that we should make our agreement conditional on Lady Croft not bargaining with _us_ in the future, and being in full command of negotiations with anyone else."

"Agreed." Was the rumble from the two American intelligence directors.

"Jack?" inquired Lara.

"Better than I was hoping for." He admitted with a grin.

Xander leaned over to Jarod "You can 'simulate' Lara's negotiation style, right?"

"Indeed."

"Cool."

Trilby cleared his throat, and everyone straightened up.

"There is one other thing we have to offer."

"Elucidate other-eye-patch-guy." Joked Xander.

Trilby visibly winced, and then held up an impressive looking memory stick.

"Contained on here is the contact information on every other 'paladin' we have info on. If this fell into the wrong hands, the results would be, unfortunate. You have not only our authorisation, but our whole-hearted encouragement, to contact whoever you wish on this list to aid your endeavours. Our only proviso is that you keep our involvement completely classified. If, for whatever reason, someone absolutely _has_ to know about us, we need to be advised ASAP. And we'd really prefer not to have to be, understood?"

There was a chorus of assent from the room.

"Also contained here is a list of, if not paladins, experts in various arcane and specialist fields. These are not to be advised of our involvement under any circumstances, is that understood? The different lists are clearly labelled."

There was another rumble of assent from the assembled Paladins.

Brognola then posed a Very Important Question. "I suppose you are all willing to join what we're tentatively calling the 'Paladin Provision Command'?"

There was yet another round of assenting noises.

Trilby walked over to Jack Lazarus. "Very well, here's the pick up info for your plane. The cars will be loaded as of noon tomorrow. Good luck and I hope we don't need to hear of you for a good few years."

"Thanks."

Sir Basil was suddenly next to Xander. "It would be well worth you contacting your old employer's. I think you might find the results heartening."

"I'll think about it." Xander then turned to his new team-mates. "Meet at…" he looked at Jack enquiringly, as Trilby, Sir Basil and Brognola left the room.

"RAF Gwynedd." The clone supplied."

"…thanks, RAF Gwynedd tomorrow about oneish?"

"Sure, youbetcha."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Easy as pie. Pez, anyone?"

"And I thought I was the one with the ability to read minds!"

"Ok Boss."

If one of you would be so kind as to take my mobile-emitter, that will be just fine."

"Alrighty then, see ya there." Xander turned to leave.

There was a flash of light. As the group blinked furiously to clear their eyes of the after-images, they were confronted with a small grey alien in line with the 'Roswell' aliens.

"O'Neill, we need your help…You are not SG-1."

"THOR! Fercryingoutloud! You picked up the wrong one! Again!"

"My apologies Clone O'Neill…"

"Lazarus, the name is Jack Lazarus." Muttered Jack.

"…I shall return you directly. Do these others pose a security risk to the SGC?"

"Nah, they're cleared."

"Very well."

Flash.

Xander turned to Jack.

"So, Aliens, huh?"

"Yep."

Flash.

"THOR!"

"Who's Thor?"

"Willow!" exclaimed Xander "What are you doing here!" He side-stepped between Willow and Cassandra. Willow noticed but didn't comment, though she did look a little hurt.

"You weren't answering your cell, so I had to do something more direct."

"I threw away my cell so Buffy and you guys _couldn't_ track me down!" said Xander defensively.

Meanwhile

Jack to Lara: "Is she… floating?"

Lara to Jack: "Yes, now hush, I'm listening."

The Doctor: "Most unusual."

Jarod: "Fascinating."

Lamont to Cassandra: "Do you know her?"

Cassandra to Lamont: "No! Now shush!"

"Xander, I've been trying to contact you to tell you…"

"I'm not coming back."

"…that Buffy was well out of line. Giles yelled at her and everything. The rest of us would love it if…you're not coming back?"

"Nope. In the seven days since I quit the Council, Me and Cassandra have been head-hunted by, well, that's classified. Suffice it to say, we may bump into each other on missions."

"Xander, this isn't the military is it? Remember the Initiative?"

"No, it's not. Well, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"There's the Colonel over there…" he gestured at Jack "…and I think Monty here holds a reserve commission in the army…"

"Lamont Cranston, at your service. Not 'Monty'."

"…anyone else?"

"I passed the SAS certification course." Offered Lara.

"So, only one military guy here, and he's Air Force."

Willow blinked at Jack. Teenager Colonel in the Air Force. Huh.

"Ok. New friends of yours. In the same business as us, I guess."

"Yep."

"Xand, just 'cos Buffy was a bit of a poopy-head, don't forget the rest of us. Dawn actually fainted when Buffy told us what happened."

Xander warmed a little. "She ok?"

"Sure, you know Dawnie."

"I'll keep in touch, I promise. But right now, we're going out on a team-bonding exercise known as the 'bar-crawl'."

"We are?"

"YES!"

"THERE IS A GOD!" Both Cassandra and Jack were rather happy.

"I could use a pint or two."

"If it's good enough for a Lady…"

"Just think of the damage to your livers!"

"C'mon Doc, you can join in. Expand your socialisation sub-routines a bit."

"Uh, very well Colonel." Stammered the Doctor, not used to being invited to social events.

"Please, 'Jack', I'm begging ya."

"Very well, 'Jack'."

Xander's voice rose above the others "And those who don't have ID appropriate for the legal age in this country…"

Cassandra and Jack both deflated, knowing that they didn't.

"…most certainly do _not_ see me for an enchanted ID card permitting you to obtain one alcoholic beverage per bar."

Jack rushed over to his new, best, friend. _beerbeerbeerbeerbeerbeerbeerbeer!_

Cassandra did too. There was a scuffle.

"Ah, Willow, you'd be most welcome. We could all use some dirt on Xander here after the briefing we were given on him." Offered Lara.

Xander's eye widened in panic.

"Sorry, I'm due in New Salem in fifteen minutes. I'd guess there's nothing else to do here, 'cept this!" Willow's grin was impish, Xander looked scared. "Xander, with the exception of Buffy, the entire Council wishes you to know that you are _not_ considered a renegade, nor Cassandra a rogue."

"Thanks Wills." He really was grateful.

"No problem. For the rest of you unfortunates present, here's an enchanted memory stick containing some of Xander's most embarrassing moments."

"What! No!" back to scared.

"Cool!" exclaimed Cassandra, leaping to retrieve the item in question. A brief brawl ensued, with Jack wanting custody of the item himself, and Xander trying to destroy it. Cassandra won, duh.

"Goodbye Xander."

"Bye Will, I'll see you around."

And she was gone.

"There's only one thing left to say Xander."

"What's that Jack?"

"Where's that bar?"

* * *

So, whaddya think folks? That's the last we'll see of the Council for a while, except for perhaps the occasional phone call to see how everyone is. And, uh, sorry about the massive block of text which describes the plane. If you want a pictoral representation of it, send me an e-mail. I've got a rough design I did on 'paint' which I can forward to you.

Use that little button at the bottom-left of the screen, go on now…REVIEW!


	5. Into the Breach

So, the Paladins are ready to go, but what do they do with their new equipment and transportation? Oh, I don't own these guys, I just lay with them.

* * *

The newly minted PPC group had arrived at their transport, the modified Osprey series tilt wing plane late the night before. Well, actually, 2am is officially earlier that morning…

"Ohhhh, my head…"

"Why did you let me do that?"

"Why do I have a traffic cone?"

"Why do I have a policewoman's uniform? Oh, hello ma'am…"

"Where's my…shit! Where are my pants! And my eye-patch!"

Jarod and the Doctor looked at their team-mates with a mixture of pity and amusement. Jarod had, momentarily, simulated what they must feel like. He was _glad_ he never drank to excess. The Doctor had enjoyed himself, imbibing as much as seemed appropriate, as holograms can't get drunk. At one point Xander had challenged him to a drinking contest…

"What do we do with them?" inquired the Doctor. This sort of behaviour didn't exist on Voyager.

"Unless you know of an effective hangover cure, we leave them to get over it by themselves. Coffee and tomato juice are likely to be in high demand." Despite having never had a hangover himself, Jarod was aware of how it progressed.

The Doctor cocked his head slightly "Let me investigate the provisions available in the galleys medical store." And off he went.

Jarod went over to offer assistance to the very confused policewoman, and offer her something more concealing than the duvet she was currently modelling.

"What happened last night?" she whispered to him, as the only one present not feeling thoroughly wretched and therefore more likely to be able to recollect what happened.

"As I understood it, you had just come off duty, hence your uniform being here and Mr Cranston there…" he pointed "…stood you a drink. You appear to share a fondness for pre-WWII furniture and designs and engaged in an extended debate. Hence more drinks. You were invited along when we moved bars and you bet that you could drink more than Mr Harris…"

"The one with the eye-patch?"

"…ah good, he found it. You lost, by the way. If it's any consolation, he was promptly drunk under the table by Doctor…Smith. The theory seemed to be that as we didn't know who you were, we had to bring you 'home', as it were. You seemed agreeable to the notion and here we are. I couldn't find a mobile phone or address book on you, so it seemed there was no other option."

"Err, what happened when we got here?"

"People pretty much collapsed where they were. At some point your uniform had something, well, sticky spilled on it, and so the Doctor carried you to a bunk, divested you of said uniform and laundered it overnight. Here it is, by the way. I have no idea where Mr Cranston got his, as we stayed together as a group all evening. I can assure you nothing else happened."

"Dr, Smith was it, divested me of my uniform?" the cop began to look rather angry.

"Indeed. Would you have preferred the drunken teenager, or the pissed peer of the realm to have attempted to put you to bed?"

She deflated slightly.

"And if I investigated this little group which seems to have shanghaied me while I was under the influence of alcohol?" we have partial re-inflation!

"Um, I think that you'd either be told to drop it once the evidence proved my recital of events, or you'd be told to drop it before the evidence proved my recital of events."

"Why?"

"Classified information I'm afraid."

"Huh?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you."

"Really? Very convenient for you."

"I suppose. We were only assembled yesterday. Last night was a bit of a 'getting to know you' situation."

"And I got involved how?"

"The pre-WWII paraphernalia I mentioned. Now, once you're dressed, you can use the workshop by the way, its door locks, I'm afraid you need to leave. We've got a delivery coming soon and I don't think you should be here when it arrives."

"Huh. All-right, but if I find you've been lying to me, I'll bring the whole weight of the law down on you guys."

"That won't be necessary. The workshop is through here…"

"Where is 'here' anyway?"

"The RAF base in Gwynedd."

"Oh."

* * *

While Jarod was explaining things to their 'guest', the Doctor was puttering about the galleys medical store and equipment, muttering to himself.

"Barbaric! Metal scalpels, needles, a, a, vial of arsenic! Why!"

He wasn't impressed with the equipment. He was slightly happier with the vaccines, anti-biotics and other medicines, for the comprehensiveness of the supplies rather than their nature.

"Cultured virii in small amounts indeed. Is this the Dark Ages? The Renaissance? No, it's the twenty-first century, and much, much worse!"

Nevertheless, he quickly set about his work.

"Aspirin for neural pain relief, a muscle relaxant to counter twinges, caffeine extract, essence of vanilla, a couple of drops of artificial neurotoxin…"

He's the Doctor, I'm sure he knows what he's doing…

"Voila! One hangover cure."

* * *

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS HANGOVER CURE IS AS FICTIONAL AS THE REST OF THE STORY. (This means none of this is in the slightest bit real, or that plausible.) DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RECREATE IT FOR PERSONAL USE!

* * *

"Now, how to administer it?" he glanced at the needles and shuddered. "Oh well, they'd have found out eventually." He tapped a brief pattern on the surface of the mobile emitter and a hypospray appeared in his hand. Loading it with his hangover cure, he made his aft to the bunk-room.

Assessing the room's occupants, he went first to Cassandra. There was a hiss and he moved on. He repeated the procedure with all the Paladins around the room, and then began doing what all Doctor's do best, scold.

"Honestly, did you have to drink so much? Less than 12 hours aboard this vessel and I've had to use some of over a quarter of the items in the infirmary. Why couldn't you just drink synthehol, wait, that's not been developed yet, oh well, why get drunk in the first place…"

The occupants of the bunk room glanced around, belatedly realising that something had changed. It was Lamont who first voiced the obvious.

"My hangover's gone!"

"Mine too!"

"My tongue no longer feels like it's coated in gunk."

"Have I lost a day, I remember drinking, surely I should have a hangover…"

Xander turned his attention to what the Doctor was saying.

"Hold on a minute, you have a hangover cure? A perfect hangover cure? Which works?"

"Well, yes?"

"Any side-effects? People who need to avoid it? Anything like that?"

"Of course not, except that more than one dose every ten days could cause slight loss of brain function, but as your Doctor, I won't give you more than one dose a fortnight."

"So not a good thing to put on the market." Commented Jack sadly.

"We could ask the general medical council." Suggested Lara.

"Or the American Institute of Medicine in New York." Offered Lamont. "I may still have some contacts there…"

"Why all the hubbub? It's not anything any other devilishly handsome hologram couldn't have done." The Doctor was confused.

"Do you have any idea what a reliable hangover cure is worth? We'd have a constant, steady income to support ourselves on! It's worth millions at the very least." Lamont enthused.

"A hangover cure? Let's have some then." The voice that came from the hatch was feminine, did not belong to either Lara or Cassandra (Who were both in full view anyway.) and was rather a surprise to most of the people in the cabin. They all turned to see the newcomer. It was the 'policewoman' from the night before, looking rather different now…

"Sydney!" Xander said with a grin.

"Hiya Harris. You really need to work on your security and pay attention to the things around you. I've been with you guys since last night and you didn't even recognise me."

"I was a bit drunk at the time." He offered.

"Then I suppose you won't be wanting those contacts for pre-WWII furniture sellers?" inquired Lamont.

"You bet I still want those contacts! Do you know how hard it is to find that stuff nowadays?"

Lamont smiled slightly. "Not with my contacts."

"C'mon, you're not going to hold out over a little thing like my giving you a false name and history are ya? It was just to keep in practice." Commented Sydney with a grin.

"Depends on what Xander here will tell us about you, my dear."

"Unfortunately, that's classified information, I'm afraid." Said Sydney, parroting Jarod's 'evasion' exactly.

"Jarod, keep back and keep her covered."

"What?" Sydney spun to find Jarod covering her with what appeared to be a military issue pistol. "Harris!"

"Sorry Syd, but it's been a couple of years since I last saw you and you never answered any of my letters. You can understand our being suspicious. Unknown, to most of us, woman, entering our midst through deception and carrying a concealed weapon."

"The knife?"

"The knife. What brings you here Syd?"

"It's Riley. Since you told me about Omega Delta, I've kept a discreet eye on their status. He's been captured. He's going to be executed in three days!"

"What! How? Why?"

"Omega Delta's sources indicated an ascension attempt in a remote and difficult to reach locality. Riley was advised to leave it to the Council, but your guys didn't seem too impressed with him or his evidence…"

"Must've been one of the New-Tweed brigade, all the Scooby-style guys know to listen to Riley."

"…perhaps, but he decided he had to go himself. He took his team with him and was captured along with Sam. The rest of the team managed to exfiltrate, but the official position is that he was there against orders and that there was nothing the UN could do."

"But they're the UN! Who won't take their word for it?"

"North Korea. The ascension was supposed to be being done by a base commandant in the mountain region. Riley's being held there briefly before the execution."

"The ascension?" Xander's tone was grim.

"It looks like a false alarm. Team 2's commander nearly throttled the mage when he said the signs had passed."

Xander glanced around the (quite cramped) cabin. "Let's move this to the Command Centre, we'll need the maps there. That is, if everyone's up for a little rescue mission?" he directed the question to his new compatriots.

"_The_ Riley Finn? You bet your ass I am."

"It's that or wash my hair…"

"I'll double check the medical supplies."

"Once more into the breach…"

"Yeah, sure, youbetcha. Will we be back in time for Simpson's?"

"So I can put the intar away now?"

There seemed to be a modicum of agreement.

"Jack, Lara, can you two see to take off?"

The two nodded and headed down to the cock-pit.

"Syd, Jarod will need everything you know about the base. Me and Lamont will sit in. Cass, can you check if we've got any parachutes onboard? Do a full equipment/weapons check while you're at it."

"Sure Xand. Just be sure to introduce me to Riley Finn when we've got him out of there."

"Cass, for the last time, he's married!"

"There's always a reason why not to do something…" her voice faded as she climbed down the ladder to the cargo bay.

"First hatch down ma'am." Lamont directed Sydney.

"Thanks."

The four of them headed down to the aptly named Command Centre and the computer generated maps contained within, while the Doctor headed for the galley, after giving Sydney a shot of the hangover cure.

"You know, he looks just like Robert Picardo, especially in that Star Trek costume." Mused Sydney.

"You know, I hadn't noticed." Bantered Xander, before turning serious "The base Syd, the base."

* * *

Sydney told them everything she knew regarding the layout of the base, its location and the disposition of the guards normally assigned there. Riley's presumed location. Sam's presumed location. The commandant's psychological profile… At the end of it all, they had been in the air for over an hour. Jarod sat with his eyes closed, running through hundreds of simulations as to how best accomplish their objective. Cassandra had long since finished her inventory and passed it on, as had the Doctor. Both were listening in.

* * *

"So the signs of an ascension had 'passed', not been misinterpreted?" queried Xander at the end of Sydney's monologue.

"That's what the report said. Can I have a drink? Talking is thirsty work."

"Sure, the galleys through there." Xander pointed forward.

"Thanks."

Once she left the cabin, Xander turned to Lamont and Jarod.

"Was she telling the truth Lamont?"

"As she knew it. If she'd been lied to I wouldn't sense any deceit."

"She's a smart girl, did you sense any unease?"

"No."

"Good enough for me. Jarod, I don't know if you've included this aspect, but I see two important scenarios."

"Which are?" Jarod was obviously curious.

"One, the ascension occurred but was more low-key than my Graduation. This would mean we could encounter an Elder Demon, a bit beyond us right now. Two, what I'm hoping for, the report was inexact and there was no ascension. Comments?"

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." Offered Lamont.

"That seems to make sense." Agreed Jarod. "I've calculated the best infiltration and exfiltration options, but I'm lacking an entry device."

"What do you mean?"

"Once we're in, I can get us where we need to go, and from there I know how we get out. I don't know how we get inside, or at least, to the outer wall."

"It's in a mountain valley, right?"

"Yes."

"Ever see that report on the incident near Prague a couple of years ago? Fellow by the name of Cage mountain-boarded down a mountain under the cover of an avalanche."

"Sounds insane." Commented Lamont.

"We could use the drop-boat."

"Even more insane." Stated Lamont with a slight smile on his lips.

"Sounds workable." Said Jarod "With or without the avalanche?"

"First we need to work on who's going in. The drop-boat'll only take five of us, so those five decide."

"That's what I like about small operations, no micro-management." Sydney commented from the doorway. "By the way, I've been here long enough to hear the plan."

"I know."

"I'd like to volunteer."

"First things first Syd. You know my deal, all cards shown. Do you have any other reason for going in there?"

"Dammit Xander, you know that's not the way the CIA works. There was a hearing convened last time I went 'full disclosure' with you!"

"It's just the way I work, and a few others you know of. Ryan for instance."

"He's Analysis, not operations."

"So?"

"Fine, I'm meant to infiltrate your organisation and pass on anything you find that could pose a threat to national security, or be used for it."

"Thanks. Still up for the mission?"

"Yep."

Xander turned to Jarod. "We have the first. She knows the layout as well as you. I'm volunteering as well by the way, so that's two."

"I as well." Said Lamont "My skills will be handy. Three."

"Four. A Slayer is always useful to have around." Cassandra chipped in.

"I presume your 'exit strategy' doesn't involve putting Mr Finn and 'Sam' in the boat without knowing what condition they're in?"

"Of course not Doctor." Jarod sounded hurt "The intrusion team will carry intars and stun any guard we come across. They'll also carry demolition packs to eliminate the anti-aircraft equipment. Also, the M206's with hi-ex grenades in case there's an Elder Demon present. When they light off a blue flare, the, what are we calling this plane anyway?"

"There's only one thing we can call a plane with all of us aboard." Grinned Xander.

"What?" queried everyone present.

"The Lunatic!"

"Apt." was Lamont's dry reply. That seemed to sum it up for everyone.

Xander hit the intercom. "How's 'Lunatic' for the name of this plane?"

"Damn it, just once I'd like to get to name something the Enterprise!"

"Really?"

"Well, yes. But Lunatic is as good as anything, a great call-sign too."

"Huh. Lara?"

"It's more original than 'Enterprise'."

"Then it's settled. This is the _Lunatic_."

"Hear hear. Now Jarod, you were illuminating us regarding the plan?"

"Ah, yes, we'll sled in on the drop-boat, neutralize the defences and guards, then the _Lunatic_ will come in low, VTOL in the exercise yard, and we'll hurry the Finn's aboard, along with ourselves. We'll have to abandon the drop-boat I'm afraid."

"Better a boat than a life." Preached Lamont.

"Agreed. Anyone want to be number five?" asked Xander. He'd left the intercom on so that those in the cock-pit could hear.

"I'll do it." Offered Jack "Lara doesn't need me here, and Jarod can sub if it turns out she does. The Doc…"

"Can speak for himself. Mr Harris, if you carry my mobile emitter and activate me when you reach the Finn's, I can stabilize them and, if necessary, carry them out."

"Thanks Doctor. It's appreciated. Um, would it be possible for you to change your attire? It's just that a Starfleet medical uniform isn't really that inconspicuous."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Exclaimed the Doctor in mock shock "Whatever will Starfleet do when they discover that their uniforms don't blend into the background!"

"Change them. Again." Commented Cassandra, a passing fan of the series' and aware of the many uniform changes contained therein.

"Will this do?" the Doctor had blurred slightly, then re-formed dressed in a dark navy top, black trousers and black boots.

"Yes, thank you again."

"I live to serve." With that, the Doctor went offline.

"Jarod, is there any minutiae to your plan we still need to hear?"

"No, that's it."

"Ok, could you go relieve Jack then? We should probably study these maps till we know them backwards, then study them some more."

"All-right." The Pretender headed off to the cock-pit, meeting Jack in the Galley.

Jack walked into the Command Centre and took the seat next to Sydney. Xander was next to Lamont and Cassandra. They studied. They revised the plans. They caught a nap. They studied some more…

* * *

The plane had stopped off in southern Italy for fuel and was cruising above the Mediterranean at 30,000 feet, at a fuel conserving 2/3 speed.

A snag occurred.

"Private Flight One Zero Niner, this is CVN 65, United States Navy, you have entered our airspace, please acknowledge."

Lara keyed the radio. "This is Flight One Zero Niner, call-sign _Lunatic_, acknowledged CVN 65. What seems to be the trouble? We cleared our flight-plan before departure." She keyed the pick up off and the intercom on. "Get Xander and Jack in here. Jack knows the military and Xander's good at flim-flam."

"Ah, '_Lunatic'_, we have been advised that you have classified USAF materials aboard your plane. We request and require that you rendezvous with us and hand it over. We cannot allow sensitive materials as close to North Korea as your flight-plan takes you. If you do not comply, we will be forced to take action. CVN 65, clear."

Xander and Jack entered at a run, hearing most of the transmission.

"Classified USAF materials? What the hell?" exclaimed Xander.

"That's a new description. I've never been 'materials' before." Commented Jack. "They mean me guys. Thor must have mentioned you to SG-1 and they tracked me down from there. Probably think I've been kidnapped. Better do what they say."

Xander glanced at the clone, Jack seemed dejected at the loss of freedom that would entail, yet also resigned to it. "The hell with that! I've not thrown a team-mate to the wolves yet, and I'm not about to start now!"

"Xander, that's the USS _Enterprise_! The most prestigious posting in the Navy! It's an aircraft carrier Xander!"

"Your point?"

Xander quickly checked their flight-plan, double, and then triple checked their destination (it was so unlikely!) then flipped the pick-up on.

"_Enterprise, _this is _Lunatic_, we have no classified materials belonging to the US military aboard. This is a humanitarian flight to Alda Ran which must not be delayed. Attempts to impede our progress will be reported to the United Nations and the British and African embassies." He keyed off.

"African?" queried Jarod.

"Dual citizenship. They like me over there."

"Oh. Just in case your masterful deception doesn't quite cut it, I've noted that with the structural re-enforcement field in place another option is available to us."

"What's that?" Jack was _deeply_ curious.

Jarod pointed to a display on the dashboard. It was marked 'Afterburner' and was currently full.

Four grins met each other in the confines of the cock-pit. They _liked_ this plane.

"Hit that the second you see fighter's closing, or being launched." Ordered Xander.

"_Lunatic_, this is _Enterprise_; you are not on a registered humanitarian flight. The UN doesn't recognise your registration and you _will_ rendezvous with us ASAP or face the consequences."

"Jack, do you know any secure encryption key's that the _Enterprise_ would have?"

"Uh, the Orion31 encryption should still be in use. Why?"

"The computer has a load of encrypt/decrypt software, just needed the key." Jarod flipped the switch. "_Enterprise_, Encrypt key Orion31, that's Oscar Romeo India Oscar Nike Three One. Over."

"What now _Lunatic_?"

"Encrypt as requested." There was an electronic chirp from the speaker which had Xander glance around suspiciously – _I swear, one tribble turns up and I assume this is all a bad dream brought on by too much pizza._

"Encrypted _Lunatic_. Now this is your last chance, turn about for rendezvous."

"_Enterprise_, this is a humanitarian flight, but not to Alda Ran. This is Alexander LaVelle Harris of the newly formed PPC. We're on a classified rescue mission into North Korea to retrieve Col. Riley and Mjr. Samantha Finn. They are two of the US governments best agents in dealing with 'HST's', on loan to the UN. They were captured on a mission of vital importance and have information the North Koreans cannot be allowed to extract. We don't leave men behind and I am invoking General Order 18a, that's one eight alpha, regarding my authority to say 'butt out and let us do our jobs without all the damn cyborgs'. Do. You. Copy?" Xander's voice had gone rather menacing by the time he released the radio.

"_Lunatic_, please reduce speed while we confirm." The _Enterprise_'s radio officer's voice had gone rather squeaky.

"One half?"

"Yep. Keep the afterburners on stand-by though. Jack, any recommendations?"

"No." he looked rather awed actually "You, you've got your own General Order?"

"Just an 'alpha' sub-order. The other involved Scoob's each got their own after Sunnydale. Buffy got Bravo. Dawn, Delta. Giles, Romeo, and Willow, Whisky. Spike didn't get one, due to him being dead at the time."

"Wow."

"Heavy stuff." Commented Lara "They're launching something, but it's the wrong signal for a fighter."

"Keep us at our current speed." Decided Xander "Jack, I can take it from here, if you could go tell the others to strap in." as Jack headed aft, Xander settled into the dedicated communications seat.

"_Enterprise_, please advise as to nature of your launch."

"_Lunatic_, the launch is that of a Marine transport. The Captain is aboard and requests that you lay over at the nearest convenient air strip for a meeting. He asked me to assure you that no-one will be detained."

"Thank you _Enterprise_. We will lay over at the northern Suez air-strip for one hour. That's all we can safely spare I'm afraid."

"Thank you _Lunatic_, much appreciated. _Enterprise_ out."

"Bring us back to three-quarters speed, I want to keep our top speed in reserve for now, but I don't want to be overly delayed by this captain. If all else fails, I'll wave my 'psychic paper' at him." Xander smirked.

Jarod and Lara glanced at each other.

"Psychic paper?"

* * *

Suez Canal Air Strip

With only half an hour before the _Lunatic_ is scheduled to depart, the delegation from the _Enterprise_ touches down. The Captain exits first, followed by a squad and a half of Marines in un-dress uniform. He walked over to where Xander and Cassandra were waiting, then saluted. Caught unawares, Xander returned the salute (Soldier Boy strikes again!) and held it. After about thirty seconds, the Captain murmurs;

"I salute you, you salute back. You drop your salute first…"

Xander dropped his arm and flushed.

"Sorry, it's been a while since I watched an accurate war-movie."

"Understandable. I am Captain James T. Kirkson of the USS Enterprise…"

Xander's lips twitched.

"…and I greatly appreciate you not bursting out in gales of laughter. I understand it takes some effort and assure you I have heard every possible joke. For a while the ships doctor was called McCoy…"

Side-splitting hilarity was introduced to the general Suez area.

"…and the chief engineer a Scotsman of thick brogue who treated the engines like his children. I live in constant fear of the day they assign me a sensor officer called 'Spock'."

Hilarity rose briefly, then calmed.

"Now that the ice is broken, Mr…?"

"Harris, Xander Harris. My apologies Captain…"

"If I hadn't wanted laughter, I'd hardly have said _that_ would I?"

"…true. This is Cassandra Newman, one of our specialists."

"Specialists get younger by the day." Commented the Captain dryly, who was mid forties if he was a day. "About this expedition of yours."

"Yes Captain?"

"I would greatly appreciate it if we could catch a ride on your transport to Alda Ran. We've received some unexpected liberty and have heard of it's, er, amazing scenery." He winked at the younger man.

"Certainly Captain, I'm always happy to oblige the Navy." Answered Xander with a smile.

"Thank you Mr Harris. And while we all appreciate a joke, I don't approve of the suggestion that the Navy is a bunch of Pirates!" the Captain chuckled heartily, a couple of the marines smiling slightly at the joke.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The eye-patch, Mr Harris, the eye-patch."

"I'm afraid that the eye-patch stays Captain, medical advice you understand." Xander's smile had tightened slightly, then relaxed, how was the Captain meant to know?

"Ah." Kirkson realised he'd made an error "My apologies and sympathies. Does it still hurt?"

"At times. Let's get your men squared away then, it'll be a tad squashed I'm afraid…" Xander turned, leading the Captain and the Marines towards the _Lunatic_. It was in its 'flat-wing' mode, ready for a runway take-off. One of the things they'd done in Italy was registering 'Lunatic' as their official call-sign.

"Anything you provide is gratefully accepted."

The two men entered the plane, followed by their respective comrades. Xander led him to the command Centre, gesturing to Cassandra to keep the marines in the cargo bay.

"Uh, it won't be too comfortable…" her voice was blocked by the closing hatch.

"Captain, what's the real deal here?" Xander got his question in quickly, expecting a barrage of questions from the older man.

"Simple really. Those Marines and I owe our lives to Col. Finn and his team. They saved us from, well, nightmares made flesh, and we're here to repay the debt."

"And prevent this plane and its contents falling to the North Koreans." Guessed Xander shrewdly. "I've no problem with that Captain, as long as you understand that I am in charge of the overall mission."

"Very well. What's your plan?"

Xander pulled up the area map they'd used to plan their movements earlier.

"We insert here…" he pointed "…with a small team, already picked. The team sled down in our 'drop-boat'. The _Lunatic_ then triggers an avalanche to cover our infiltration; people won't pay attention to a small dot close to an avalanche."

"Insane. Ballsy, but insane."

"We'll use an oar to steer the makeshift sled. Once we get to the base, we stun the guards, mine the anti-aircraft defences and find Riley and Sam. Our corpsman will stabilise them and we'll trigger the mines. Just in case that doesn't get your attention, we'll also release two blue flares. Anything else, it ain't us. The _Lunatic_ will come in and land in the exercise yard…"

"There's no run-way son." The captain began kindly "Perhaps…"

"The _Lunatic_ is a modified tilt wing Osprey Captain. It'll do it. That's where I'd like you to join my plan, securing the immediate area in case we missed any guards. That is, if you have body armour? We've got a surplus of weapons right now, but no body armour to fit your marines."

"We've got the right stuff."

"Ok. We evac Riley and Sam, get ourselves aboard, then hop the border and get the hell away from anything that wants to chase us."

"Hmm. got any plans of this base?"

Xander pulled them up on the screen.

"A sniper here would cover the whole yard, same with here and here." Kirkson highlighted the positions on the map.

"We know. The intrusion team will sweep them early on, then leave a booby-trap and a motion sensor in place. Someone sets up to snipe, they'll go down."

"Excellent, but could you take a sniper rifle with you and use it to provide cover fire?"

"Afraid not, the miniscule amount of extra space we've got will contain two M206 grenade launches and two bandoleers of hi-ex rounds."

"What the deuce for! There wasn't anything in the plan about demolishing the place!"

"There isn't, but there's a seventy-thirty chance that down there is a 'nightmare made flesh' worse than has existed unopposed for over four thousand years."

"The way you say that, it sounds as if you've faced one before?"

"My High School Graduation. The Mayor 'Ascended' into a hundred foot long demonic snake. It took all of the seniors being armed, a load of graduates likewise and filling the school library with explosives, luring it inside and setting them off to finish it, and that was with it_ unfed, in pain and disoriented_! This one will be used to its new shape, know the base better than us and may be able to use mage-craft. I want my grenade launchers with me, and the _Lunatic_ on stand-by to raze the base if necessary."

"It's really that bad?"

"It could be. Personally, I'm rooting for that thirty percent."

"Understandable. Who'll pilot the plane?" Kirkson, for all his seeming adaptability, couldn't bring himself to call this incredible plane 'Lunatic'.

"Lady Lara Croft, reporting for duty." Lara had come down from the sleeping berths and looked fresh as a daisy.

"Ah, Lady Croft. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine Captain. You come bearing back up, which is always useful. You have my thanks."

"It was but a small matter, if it brings me into your presence."

"Have we been polite enough yet?"

"If not, we can always lie and said we danced around the issue for over an hour."

"True, true. Xander, I'll be in the cock-pit."

"Ok Lara." She headed forward and Xander turned to the captain once more. "She's more than capable of piloting the plane, and we've got a co-pilot just in case, but I'd really prefer him monitoring our situation from in here." He gestured at the elaborate support equipment for emphasis "I don't suppose…"

"Co-incidentally, I happen have among my marines a young enthusiast of these new 'Ospreys'. He's clocked over three hundred hours sim and air time, only reason he's not 'officially' credited with it is he can't bear to lose his other craft."

"Sounds ideal. Let's see if he can stay focused in the light of Lady Croft's distracting presence, shall we?"

Kirkson laughed, long and hard.

Sydney burst in from the direction of the galley. "Xander, I've just been in contact with my liaison, the executions been moved up to 6.00pm tomorrow!"

"Shit!" exclaimed the former carpenter, quickly keying the intercom "All hands, prepare for take-off! We've just had our timetable moved up!"

There was a clatter from the hold as Marines secured themselves. Cassandra hit the hatch control to seal the cargo bay. Jarod sat in the acceleration chair provided in the Workshop. Jack grabbed hold of the rack in the Armoury. Lamont braced himself in the bunk he was using.

"Lara, punch it!"

The _Lunatic_ leapt forward along the runway, its engines roaring as they fought to accelerate it to take-off speed.

Once they were off the ground, Xander made his way forward.

"Lara, we've had our easy time cut out from under us. Can we get full speed out of this crate?"

"Just say the word."

"The word."

"You got it."

There was another surge of acceleration gentler than take-off but still noticeable and the _Lunatic_ attained maximum airspeed. Kirkson had followed Xander to the cock-pit and was looking around him in amazement at the high level technology on display.

"Some of this stuff is still on the 'rumours' list for Fleet Captains!" He glanced at the speedometer "Holy crap! How are we making this speed in a tilt-wing without them being ripped off?"

"A prototype structural reinforcement field Captain, and you ain't seen nothing yet!" crowed Lara "Xander, can I try the Afterburner, please?"

"Just leave enough for an emergency exit after the pick-up."

"Thanks!" Her grin was decidedly scary. She keyed the intercom "Everyone hold on, we're about to hit the Afterburner!"

She did.

…

…

…

…

She managed to turn it off.

"Oh my."

Xander and Kirkson had been plastered to the door. Presumably the others had been strapped in…

The intercom sounded, she tripped the pick-up.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP THERE! I WAS JUST USED AS A MATTRESS BY A SQUAD OF MARINES!" ah, so Cassandra and the marines hadn't been properly secured.

The intercom chimed again.

"FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, GIVE PEOPLE A CHANCE TO STRAP IN! I'VE GOT BRUISES WHERE I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD PLACES!" that was Jack.

The intercom chimed again.

"I would appreciate you giving me time to secure the workshop before doing that ever again. I also regret to report damage to the aft Workshop bulkhead, due to a Stanley knife being imbedded in it. I am as yet unable to get it out." Jarod was calmer sounding, but undeniably testy.

Xander helped Kirkson to his feet. "So sue us, it's our first day on the job."

"Where do you get your toys? And can I have some?"

"Sorry captain. You're not cleared for this stuff."

"Darn."

* * *

Later

The marines had been briefed on their part of the plan. They'd been shown the maps. They'd been issued arms (From the look of it, it may take some effort to get the Atchisson's back…) and they'd been advised to run away if a hundred foot long, twenty foot wide snake turned up. Lara's temporary co-pilot was brought up to speed on the planes controls (e.g. Don't press the little red button.) and soloed briefly.

"We're approaching drop-zone." Lara was being uber-professional, trying to ignore the exuberance of earlier. It wasn't working. "Everybody ready back there?"

"So long as you stay away from the afterburner."

"Enough already! I apologised, I wasn't expecting quite that much, kick, in a bird this size!" Lara snapped.

"Testy testy, we're prepped for drop 'Arkham'."

"Beginning translation to VTOL mode 'Clan'." Reported Lara absently as she made the necessary adjustments. It had been Jarod's suggestion that they use unofficial call-signs for communications to avoid official repercussions later. It had been Xander who'd issued them though, and he just grinned when asked why…

"Ready when you are."

Jarod broke in "Remember to keep radio silence wherever possible. We don't want the tango's picking you up do we?"

"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs why dontcha? You trigger the avalanche on schedule, we'll get the Finn's out." Jack was eager for his first field action in ages.

They dropped.

…

…

They landed.

"Ooof." They reacted.

The boat lay unmoving on a field of pure white, the mountain splendour stunning to behold.

Xander and Lamont unshipped the oars and snapped them into the rowlocks. Cassandra started them moving with a pull on the oars only another Slayer could duplicate. The impromptu sled picked up speed quickly, Sydney keeping an eye on her stopwatch.

"30 seconds!" she called out.

Cassandra adjusted their direction with an oar.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" as Sydney said '1', the _Lunatic_ released four concussion grenades, which landed precisely in the impression left by the boats initial impact. The _Lunatic_ vectored away, to refuel in the town of Alda Ran before returning to await the signal.

The grenades concussed.

An avalanche began, to the surprise of any observers (There was no natural reason for it.) and to the gratitude of the team below it. Then they realised…

"Uh, it's getting closer faster than I expected." Commented Lamont.

"Cass, could you maybe use the oars to speed us along a bit?" asked Xander quietly, while internally cursing 'XXX' Cage.

"Sure." Slayer speed and strength added to their speed slightly. They were now only gradually being overtaken by the wall of snow, ice and, was that a boulder!

"The plan calls for us to cut up into that canyon." Xander pointed at the fast approaching opening. "Cass, hard left, NOW!"

Cassandra hauled.

The oar, and her arms, strained.

The boat creaked.

The four effective passengers held their breath, aware of the wall of certain death following a bare hundred meters behind them. And closing.

The sled slid neatly into the gap between the rocky outcroppings and bled it's momentum up the incline. It slid to a stop. It started to slide back towards the ongoing avalanche!

Sydney threw a grapple and line over the side and snagged a boulder. The other's breathed a sigh of relief, aware of how close to death they'd all come. They all clambered out of the drop-boat and equipped themselves from its small compartments; the five of them all carried a radio and a small but comprehensive first-aid kit (contents selected by the Doctor.), but were otherwise somewhat erratically armed and attired.

* * *

Lamont wore a close approximation of his Shadow costume, armed with his trusty twin Colt .45's in shoulder holsters and a pair of the pistol-variant intars in holsters hanging from his belt.

Jack wore arctic camouflage (in his size!) and carried a sub-gun-variant intar, a FiveSeven pistol in a thigh holster and one of the M206 grenade launchers and grenade filled bandoleers slung over his right shoulder. He also carried a zat.

Xander wore and carried the same as Jack, except that he replaced the zat with a small battle-axe.

Cassandra wore a rather more form-fitting camouflage outfit, eschewing most of the modern weaponry of the others for a Wakizashi style sword worn on the back, three silver throwing daggers on each thigh and a wooden stake at the small of her back. The exception was the pistol-variant intar under her left armpit in a shoulder holster, worn at Xander's insistence.

Sydney wore thick black leggings and jumper, accompanied with warm boots and a dark ski-cap. Her equipment was worn over the to of this, the last intar in a thigh holster on her right leg, a FiveSeven pistol in a shoulder holster under her left armpit and the demolitions bag, containing seven lumps of C4 and detonators for the same.

* * *

"Remind me to have a chat with Mr Cage regarding how he survived his run." Requested Lamont dryly. "I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear the story."

"No problem Lamont, just don't mention that I'll be behind him with a 'blunt instrument' if it turns out he exaggerated." Agreed Jack.

"No kidding." Offered Cassandra "That was tough, and close."

Meanwhile, Xander had double clicked his radio, waited a beat, and then repeated it, to tell the others aboard the _Lunatic_ that they'd made it.

"Ok folks. The easy part's over. Time for the tough bit." Said Xander over the groans of the others. "We're on a timetable here people."

They straightened up.

"According to the map, the base should be at the top of this ravine. Lamont, can you scout ahead please."

"A pleasure to be of service." And The Shadow disappeared from view, the only evidence of his passing a line of fresh tracks appearing in the snow.

"The rest of us move carefully until we come into sight of the base." Xander continued.

"We know this Xand. We were there every time we went over this in the plane." Commented Cassandra. Xander grinned in response.

"Sorry, used to doing planning 'on-the-fly' as it were."

"It shows, believe me, it shows." Snarked Sydney.

By nightfall the group were crouched within spitting distance of the base. Lamont had gone on several scouting expeditions, each time returning with new information.

"So, they changed the guard schedule. Marvellous. Plan 'B' it is." Ordered Xander.

"Plan 'B' being?" inquired Jack, mildly scared by the gleam in Xander's eye.

"Lamont goes in while invisible, stuns the gate guards, we rush in and stun everyone else, we rescue Riley and Sam, blow the AA defences and ride out of here like the all round good guys we are."

"So not that dissimilar to plan 'A' then." Commented Lamont

"Except that plan 'A' never works. This is plan 'B', and therefore possible."

"Fair enough."

It went fairly smoothly, Lamont swept past the gate guards, stunned them from behind and the others charged in, stunning everyone in sight. That's when it got complicated.

"Since when was this a _prison camp_!" exclaimed Jack angrily, glancing at the, obviously temporary, installations necessary for being a prison. "And where are the _prisoners_?"

"Nothing I was shown indicates this being here." Said Sydney, "Hell, the amount of food being shipped here is barely enough for the soldiers!"

"I suspect…" began Xander "…that the base commandant achieved his Ascension unopposed, eating the prisoners to deal with the incredible energy expended in the transformation. We need to be very careful. Let's find Riley and Sam. Lamont, you're with me. Cassandra, go with Jack and follow his directions. Sydney, mine the AA defences. Comms live people, I want to hear about it the second you encounter resistance or the former commandant. _It_ is now a viable target." He emphasized his statement by loading his grenade launcher. "Let's move."

* * *

Sydney had mined three of the five AA towers and was working on the fourth when she saw movement in the building across from her. Reaching up, she tripped her radio.

"Clan 5 to all Clan members, movement in Building 7." They'd agreed on using a simple code for the different buildings, so anyone listening in wouldn't get any clue as to where the transmitter was by the content of the message.

"Clan 1, acknowledged." That was Xander, answering for himself and Lamont.

"Clan 2, acknowledged." Jack, for himself and Cassandra.

Having done her duty reporting the contact, Sydney returned to her job.

* * *

Xander acknowledged Sydney's transmission, and then returned to the task at hand. Jack and Cassandra were closer to 'Building 7' and thus got the job of investigating it.

"Check across the hall." He whispered to Lamont, and then started trying the doors on his side. This was the third building they'd checked.

There was a crash from the room Lamont had just entered! Exiting his room at a run, pulling his intar in line as he went, Xander collided directly with, Riley Finn! They both crashed to the floor.

"Riley!" Xander grinned. Life was good.

"Xander!" the military man gasped "Then the guy I brained with a vase was…?"

"With me."

"Oh." While at first glance Riley didn't look too bad, Xander could see the discolorations that hinted at internal bleeding. And a glassiness to the eyes suggested he was suffering from a mild concussion. Pulling the mobile emitter from a chest pocket, Xander activated it.

"What is the nature of the medical emergency?" inquired the holographic personality.

"Him." Xander jerked a thumb at Riley, and passed the Doctor his first-aid kit. "I've got to check on Lamont." He turned to Riley "The Doc here'll patch you up, I need to get my team-mate from where you brained him."

As Xander entered the room, he heard the Doctor mutter behind him "Another head injury, why do humans think their skull is unbreakable…" He found Lamont glancing muzzily around the room.

"What hit me?" he muttered.

"An antique Ming vase from the look of it." Commented Xander "Have to talk to Riley about that…"

"You mean the guy we're here to rescue…?"

"Afraid so. It looks like he's got a concussion, and we weren't exactly announcing ourselves." Explained Xander.

"He can apologise later, we need to get out of here."

"First we need to find Sam. Then, as soon as the Doc says we can go, we go."

"Good plan."

Xander reached for his radio. "Clan 1 to all Clan members, Package Charlie collected."

"Clan 2, acknowledged."

"Clan 5, acknowledged. One to go."

* * *

"Clan 2 to Clan 1."

"Clan 1 receiving."

"Confirm Package Bravo is petite brown haired female."

"Confirmed."

"Clan 1, you've got to see this, it's just too bizarre. Position Sierra Foxtrot India 2."

"Acknowledged. Clan 3, Clan Delta and Package Charlie will meet with Clan 5 at extraction point. Am inbound on your position."

"Received."

* * *

Xander scurried across the gap between buildings, trusting in his camouflage, combined with the light flurries of snow, to keep him hidden from any watching eye. Entering via a south facing window (Sierra), he crept up to the first floor (Foxtrot) and entered the second door leading inward (India 2). He was met with intar muzzles, which he casually brushed aside.

"Status?" he requested.

"You gotta see it to believe it Xander." Commented Jack, gesturing to a gap in the wall. Xander moved closer and glanced through. He stared. He rubbed his eye. He stared some more.

"So, the North Korean base commandant arranged for an influx of disposable prisoners, captured the leaders of a UN team intending to prevent his Ascension, and Ascended. All this, to become what appears to be a 40m long snake, about 8 or 9 metres wide at the thickest tapering down to a few centimetres at the back end. With stubby arms, huge eyes and a tongue to make a frog jealous. To complete this picture, he has Sam Finn, one of the team who came to prevent his Ascension, dressed in a metal bikini and chained to his dais."

"That seems to be the case." Agreed Cassandra.

"Where the hell did the base commandant of an isolated base in an intentionally isolationist state, which abhors all things American, see 'Return of the Jedi'?" Xander exclaimed quietly.

"That's the thing, we don't think he has." Smirked Jack "We can't hear much, but Mrs Finn there made a 'Jabba' crack when we first arrived, he didn't get it."

"You're saying this is a coincidence? He even has a strange monkey-like demon down there!"

"Life. Weird huh."

Xander shook his head at the sheer insanity that was his life, discreetly pinching himself. Nope, not a dream. "Suggestions?"

"I knock out a guard, dress in his uniform, and infiltrate the room. You leave your weapons here, enter the hall openly and declare your wish to trade for Mrs Finn. At an appropriate moment, Cass here throws us our grenade launchers and opens up with the zat. I'll have passed near Mjr. Finn at some point and slipped her a pistol, one of the FiveSeven's, not an intar. We lure the Commandant outside, and you call for the _Lunatic_ to hit it with those heavy Staff weapons. No more demon, two rescued demon-hunters and a couple of hundred avenged prisoners."

Xander stared at him, and then shrugged.

"What the hell. Cass, put the intars into a carry-all, we won't get any more any time soon. Once we've got that thing outside, get down to Sam, give her Jack's uniform to keep her warm, its cold outside."

Cassandra nodded. Xander reached for his radio.

"Clan 1 to Clan 3, attempting retrieval of Package Bravo, and stay out of sight until the dust clears."

"Clan 3, received."

Jack grinned. Xander smiled serenely. Cassandra smirked.

"Let's do this thing."

"One question, can I introduce myself as a Jedi Knight?"

"NO!"

"Please?" Xander used his best puppy dog impression.

"Fine, but if you call me Artoo, you don't get your guns back."

* * *

Jack rendered a passing guard unconscious. He divested the man of his uniform (inc. one face concealing helmet.) and stripped off his own. He dressed in the guard's uniform, rolling up the sleeves and legs. He infiltrated the hall below…

"WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED MINION?" boomed the demon.

"Master, I completed my task and have returned so that I may further serve you." Boy, Jack knows how to lay it on thick.

"EXCELLENT MINION. I HAD THOUGHT TO HAVE YOU EXECUTED WITH THE INTRUDERS, BUT YOU MAY YET PROVE USEFUL TO ME."

"Thank you Master."

"PROVIDE ME WITH A SPONGE BATH." Ordered the demon. Jack was horrified, but it would give him a chance to get nearer Mjr. Finn…

"Yes Master."

"AND DON'T MISS THE FIDDLY BITS."

Jack shuddered.

* * *

"Tell me we're recording this."

"Yep."

"Cool."

"You'd better get down there boss, otherwise Jack _will_ kill you."

"After he's passed the gun to Sam, otherwise she'll be defenceless."

"Good reason."

"I thought so. Keep recording."

* * *

Jack had been forced to start at the far end of the demon. He worked his way steadily towards the main dais. It took him over half an hour to even get near Sam Finn. He made a point of bending over near her to pass the gun over, making it obvious to Xander he wanted this over with, and soon.

"Wait for the signal." He whispered to her, and then went back to providing the demon with a sponge bath.

One of the demons human servants approached. "My lord, a master mage of an ancient knighthood craves an audience."

"LET HIM ENTER."

Xander entered the room, divested of his weaponry and the straps which had held it. Sam stared at him in amazement.

"Great Ascended One, I am Alexander of the Jedi Knighthood, here by mage-craft to enter negotiations with your lordship."

"SPEAK YOUR PIECE."

"My order has heard of your power, and wishes you nothing but the best of intentions. Unfortunately, I owe a great debt to the woman Samantha Finn, and am bound by oath to aid her when she is in peril. I would of course be willing to compensate you for her absence."

"NO. I LIKE HER WHERE SHE IS. SHE'S QUITE ATTRACTIVE, KNOWS HOW TO GIVE A GOOD MASSAGE, AND WILL SOON BE A WIDOW." The demon's tone was, frankly, evil.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Mighty One, I am bound to accomplish her release, you can either benefit from this, or earn the enmity of my order."

"I AM THE ASCENDED ONE! I SUCCEEDED WHERE WILKINS AND THE OTHERS FAILED! I AM IMMORTAL!"

Xander dropped his façade, Jack straightened out of his servile position.

"Wilkins thought he was immortal as well. Cass!"

The wall above splintered, and Cassandra tossed the M206's through the new access, followed closely by the bandoleers.

"WHAT IS THIS!"

"Your end, demon." Stated Xander coldly, as he and Jack opened up. From above, the distinctive sound of zat fire was heard.

The grenades opened great gouges in the demons hide. It squirmed towards the two Paladins', who retreated outside. Once outside, they separated, catching the pursuing demon in a wicked crossfire. From one of the buildings several pistols opened up, ripping into the demons hide, though only slightly injuring it.

It strayed near to one of the AA emplacements, and Sydney detonated the C4 concealed there, and in all the other structures. The blast and flying rubble injured the beast.

"Clan to Arkham! Wildfire! Repeat, Wildfire!"

Like an avenging angel, the _Lunatic_ dropped out of the clouds with a whine of jet engines. It opened up with its wing-mounted heavy Staff weapons, severely injuring the demonic form.

Xander adjusted his fire to take advantage of the fresh damage, while Jack manoeuvred around in front of it.

"Open wide." Whispered Jack.

The demon opened wide and Jack fired a grenade straight down its gullet. It met a fireball coming the other way. The demon exploded. Rather messily.

"This stuff's corrosive!" yelled Xander, who'd been missed by most of the gunk. There was a bit on his radio, which was hissing as it ate through the casing, as well as on one of the grenades…

"Throw anything with this gunk on that way, especially any grenades!" Xander screamed, as his mind connected the dots.

The duo pulled off any affected equipment (ammo first!) and flung it away from them.

Boom.

Just in time too.

Cassandra and Samantha Finn exited the building, while Lamont, Sydney, Riley and the Doctor appeared from where the pistol fire had originated. They all smirked at the unfortunate duo, who were vigorously rubbing their heads with snow to get some errant slime off.

Xander turned to Lamont. "Next time, you get the fire-breathing demon with corrosive blood. Call in the _Lunatic_, please. It's a tad cold out here."

There was a rumble from the prisoner compound. The assembled warriors turned to face its direction.

Jack groaned. "Let me guess, we just killed the comic relief, and big brother is about to be rather upset in our general direction."

A massive reptilian head arose from behind the compound. It was the same width as one of the buildings and its gaze was intelligent and hugely malevolent.

"**WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER? I AM TRYING TO PLAN WORLD DOMINATION AND NEED MY SLEEP TO DO SO PROPERLY!"** it roared, obviously expecting an instantaneous response. It got one.

"Open fire!" yelled Jack to the others, who hurriedly complied. "Cass, pass us the carry all, we need to save the grenades for in-close work!"

Cassandra tossed the carry all at him, then dodged to one side as a massive fire-ball just missed her. Jack and Xander grabbed their FiveSeven's from the bag. Jack slung the bag over his shoulder. (Intars are rare people!)

"Ammo?" queried Xander.

"Three rounds."

"Two here. I'll get Lamont to request a combat landing from the _Lunatic_, get all those heavily armed Marines down here and helping."

"Then…?"

"We get close and pray. And repeatedly tell ourselves that that is _not _a giant Rancor."

* * *

It was costly. The _Lunatic_ managed a beautiful piece of manoeuvring, getting the Marines down near cover while staying out of the demons range. They settled in, blasting away with P90 and shotgun alike. Jack and Xander closed with the demon, trying to get another down-the-throat shot, but every time it opened its mouth, flame gouted out. The _Lunatic_ made repeated strafing runs, the four heavy staff weapons pitting and scarring the demons hide, but doing no substantial damage.

Four marines were caught in the open, between cover, by one of the fireballs. Only scorched bones remained.

Cassandra was darting everywhere, her zat spitting electricity at the demon. They did no immediate harm, but the repeated bolts were beginning to slightly slow its response time. Given, say, three weeks, she could have stopped it. As it was, she was just one more distraction.

Lamont was blasting away with his Colt's, but to no effect. He tried influencing the demons mind, but it was so alien he could gain no purchase there.

* * *

Eventually, it all came down to one man. Senior Petty Officer Candless, one of the Marines who'd insisted on joining the mission once he heard it was to rescue Riley Finn. He was sheltered next to Sydney in a miniscule bit of cover which the demon had yet to spot. He took the last piece of C4 the intrusion team had brought with them for 'contingencies', and charged. Zigzagging from cover to hidey-hole, rolling out of the way of no less than three fireballs, he approached the demon.

Xander and Jack had opened up with their pistols, trying to get the demon to open its mouth before the man arrived, desperate to end its existence with their grenades rather than with the life of a brave man.

Candless grimly scaled the wall of one of the temporary buildings, then sprinted across its roof to reach the demons head, timing it so that the demon had just released a fireball and leapt within its momentarily gaping maw. The demons mouth closed, and it looked puzzled by the actions of one of its opponents.

"**BUT KEVLAR GIVES ME THE RUNS…"** it began to complain, before its abdomen exploded outwards, bisecting it. Messily. The demon roared in pain and rage, spitting fireball after fireball at its entrenched opponents. Most missed.

Xander and Jack opened up with their last grenades, concentrating on the exit wound left by the C4, further injuring the demon. The _Lunatic_ began another strafing run, focussed plasma stitching across the demons remaining flesh.

Cassandra leapt up from near the demon to the back of its neck, her daggers used as handholds, her sword sawing through demonic flesh and bone.

Eventually, it was dead. It was time to count the cost of victory.

* * *

The Doctor flitted from patient to patient, doing his best to preserve the lives of those in his care. The Paladins had gotten off relatively lightly. Mild burns for Xander and Jack, a broken arm for Cassandra and a third degree burn on Lamont's arm from one of the fireballs. The marines weren't as lucky. Six dead, plus Candless, three wounded beyond even his ability given the available facilities. The rest sported heavy burns.

Xander stalked up to him. "Can you help them?" the question was gruff, the desperate hope evident in his eye absent from his voice.

"Not here, I'm afraid. Even on Voyager it would need immediate treatment. Here, all I can do is make them comfortable."

"The hell with that." Snarled Xander, pulling out a cell-phone and hitting speed-dial 3. With his other hand he pulled out an amulet, snapping it in two. "Leo, I need you here now, there's a lot of people with serious injuries here. Yes, I just snapped the amulet. Fine! Bring a friend, just get here now!"

Two shimmers of heavenly light appeared, coalescing into the figures of Leo Wyatt and…

"Tara!"

"Xander, we'll talk later."

"Sure…Leo, please help them."

The two guardian angels moved amongst the wounded and dying, their touch returning health and vigour. The marines and other Paladins looked on in bewilderment, not understanding how these two arrived, how they healed them, pretty much anything that was happening. The number of wounded rapidly decreased, first the critical, then the serious, then the minor, until there was only one remaining – Xander Harris.

"Xander, let me heal you."

"No, if it wasn't for my 'plan', these guys's wouldn't have needed you. Hell, there are seven beyond your help anyway!"

"That can all be argued about later. Keeping those injuries won't help anyone, and you'll need to be focused for your talk with Leo."

"Why?"

"Ah…?"

"Fine." Xander presented his wounds. Tara healed them.

"I'm afraid my time here is short. I'll always be there, watching over you all. Except in the bath. Thank you for helping Willow. Goodbye." And Tara shimmered from view.

Leo approached the carpenter, laying a hand on his shoulder "Can we talk? Privately?"

"Sure. I think the bunk room's clear. It's…" there was a shimmer. "...right here. All right Leo, what's the what?"

"I hope you didn't mind, but Tara's been itching for the opportunity to contact any of you 'Scoobies' for ages. She's technically being trained by yours truly, so I was pretty much forced to bring her along…" Leo grinned.

"I completely understand. Leave a trainee unattended? Unthinkable." Xander's grin was broader.

"Now to the serous bit. You've got most of the celestial courts terrified up there."

"Something new to add to my resume. May I know why?" Xander's tone was tart.

"Your potential for chaos is incredible. You by-pass prophecy, loophole immutable statements and keep redeeming the bad-guys. Before, you were guided by one that the PTB guided, giving them a modicum of influence over you. Admittedly, that influence tended to be 'go in that general direction, and deal with the problem somehow'. Still, they were able to keep you away from certain events which absolutely had to occur. Now, you're effectively a free agent and could do _anything_. You've already set a precedent for Slayers to go independent of the New Council!"

"So?"

"Xander, I say this as your friend. The celestials are greatly concerned regarding your potential impact on their plans. They take the long view, and this period is a probability nexus. Small influences now will have repercussions for thousands of years. The last nexus involved the ejection of demons from this plane, and the creation of the Slayer line. There was a small group who wanted you terminated!" Leo was visibly upset.

"Not to be cocky, but they obviously decided not to." Xander's tone was, well, cocky. Amused too.

"For the time being. It was decided to issue you with this." Leo handed over a blank newspaper to Xander.

"And the 'why' would be…?"

"Before embarking on a mission or proposing a new mission, look to the paper. If an article regarding the mission hasn't appeared, don't go."

"And if I do?"

"You'll be removed." Leo looked away "Xander, I did all I could, as did a rather lot of others. But the celestials you've impressed have, for the most part, been in the lower choirs. We don't have the clout to go against the archangels or the seraphim."

"I know you did your best Leo, and I appreciate it, I do. I'll keep it close and… check it, often."

"Thank you. There are two more things though."

"Oh?" Xander's tone was guarded.

"Should you ever be contacted by a woman who identifies herself as the 'Last Scion', you've got to render her every possible assistance."

"That sounds doable. I'm not going to compromise my team though."

"We figured as much, out of your own resources is good enough."

"Ok, what's the other thing?"

"Well, it's the carrot, so to speak. If you look at the paper and there _is_ an article regarding your mission, there'll be a piece of information only otherwise available with hindsight. That's all I've been told, but it might give you an edge. For instance, it would probably have contained there being two ascended demons present today."

"Thanks Leo. Tell Piper that I will make good on that invitation _this_ year, cross my heart and all that."

"You got it. See you around Xander." And the Whitelighter vanished.

* * *

A short time later.

Xander was in the Command Centre mulling over what Leo had told him, reconciling himself to the fact that he was the butt-monkey of every 'higher being' there was in existence. The _Lunatic_ was headed for the _Enterprise_, to return its Captain and Marines, both living and dead. The saving grace of the mission, if there was one, was that they'd killed two ascended demons and rescued Riley and Sam. Now if only he could look at the body-bags and remember that…

"Xander?" Cassandra spoke to him tentatively, aware he blamed himself for the losses and credited himself to little for their success.

"Yes Cass?" he looked up at her, seeing the concern in her body-language.

"Jack and Jarod have made something in the workshop. They want you there when the Captain puts it up in the hold."

"I'll be right down." As he lifted himself from the chair, he was suddenly aware of how long it had been since he'd had anything to eat. Swinging himself onto the ladder, he slid down on the outside of its poles to land gently at the bottom. He came face to face with one of the marines.

"What was that thing? A dragon?" name-tag read 'Hicks', rank of Corporal.

"No, those are bigger, and have wings. That's what you get when a human being uses magic to 'ascend' into a pure demon."

"You know it was going to be there?"

"Intelligence suggested an ascension had taken place recently. I wasn't expecting two of them though."

"Two?"

"We dealt with one before you landed. It was smaller, looked kinda like Jabba the Hutt from Star Wars. That's why we had so few grenades left."

"There more of them?"

"Today was only the third time I've ever encountered them, they're pretty rare."

"Good. Any hints as how to get transferred into your unit?"

"Sorry, us lot are civilians."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope, you want a posting in the shadows, you could try asking Col. Fin there."

"Thanks." And the marine turned away.

"ATTENTION ON DECK!" a voice bellowed, and all present snapped to attention, the civilians imitating the Marines.

Captain Kirkson entered from the Workshop access, carrying a large rectangle covered in cloth.

"Today we faced a terrible foe. We volunteered for a classified mission into hostile territory, to rescue those to whom we owe our very lives. Sadly, some of our number have lost their lives in the doing. In all likelihood, this will be classified as an accident, our comrades deaths officially the result of whatever excuse the Pentagon thinks appropriate this week. But we know. And here, in this place, will stand a memorial to those who have fallen fighting the creatures which dwell in the dark. On this plaque are the names of fallen heroes, remember them and their shining example." With that, Kirkson uncovered the plaque he carried, and proceeded to the bulkhead of the _Lunatic_, affixing it to ready-prepared clasps. Stepping back, he saluted it for several seconds. Breaking his salute, he turned to the assembled Marines and Paladins. "When we return to the _Enterprise_, mourning our losses, do not forget those who we aided, who will fight on against tremendous odds to keep our world safe. Remember, the Paladins!"

"HU-AH!" the marines broke ranks, while the members of the PPC glanced at one another in shock. Xander stepped toward Kirkson.

"Captain, thank you. Without the help of you and your marines, we would have died there. If you ever need us, give me a call and we'll be there." The former carpenter handed the captain a folded sheet of paper with his details on. "I would also appreciate it…"

"Yes?"

"If you could check the circumstances of the families of those who died. I'd like to express my condolences personally, maybe provide a bit of assistance if they need it."

"Son, the Navy look after their own. We'll look after them, you just concentrate on keeping those nightmares in the dark, where they belong."

Kirkson turned away, and Xander headed once more for the Command Centre.

He encountered Riley there.

"Riley, how are you and Sam?"

"We both feel fine, but that doctor of yours keeps giving us physicals."

"It's his way."

"Xander, when did the Council get the money for this sort of equipment? This plane is beyond cutting-edge and some of those guns were light-years beyond what we get issued with. For that matter, when did the Council start working with the US Navy? When I called Buffy about the ascension, she told me the Council was independent of any governmental or international agency and intended to stay that way. She muttered something about ex-boyfriends wanting favours, and then hung up."

"Wait a minute, _Buffy_ dismissed you, forcing you to go in against orders and nearly get killed? Resulting in the deaths of _seven_ marines who really had no business fighting that _Pure Demon_ when there are hundreds of Slayers eager to tackle something like that!"

"Well, yes. Something about making a 'clean break'."

Xander's eyebrow twitched.

"Riley, we have a lot to discuss…"

* * *

Whoa, monster chapter! That's what happens when I go for a while without internet access, I just keep adding stuff. Still, all that and I leave it mid-conversation. Maybe I really am evil…?

So, whaddya think? Is this any good? Should I add anyone else anytime soon? How should Riley take the news of Xander's change in status? All will be revealed in the next instalment of the Paladin Provision! Slight warning – there will be Buffy-Bashing. I just re-watched series' six and seven and am feeling greatly irritated by her…

**Reviews are greatly appreciated.**

P.S. If you have any suggested missions, feel free to e-mail me. It's a bit hard to think up foes for this group and I have at least nine spots to fill!


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